One Hundred
by SeventeenBlack
Summary: 100 fics based on a darker version of Aerith and what happens after she saved the world. Aerith/Reno central, though there are refs of a previous Aerith/Vincent relationship. NOT in chronological order. Drama, romance, violence, humor. More inside!
1. 000 The Idea

In December of 2006, I took on a writing project. I am a literary role-player online, and at that time I was going through a move that kept me from internet service for about two months. So, to keep myself active and practiced, I began writing stories based off of the character I played—Aerith of FF7, post-game, from a silly prompt-based writing challenge on LiveJournal. They mostly focused around a relationship with Reno of the Turks that evolved from strictly sexual, to mutually abusive and resentful at the feelings that had developed inadvertently, to utterly warm and accepting of their inseparability.

To be honest, I didn't expect her to become what she did—the idea was almost absurd. I took the character, and brought her back to life from death after the events of the game, and completely changed her morally and philosophically. Call it an experiment. She had been dead, had given up her life in sacrifice, saved the world, only to find that she'd done so in vain—the world didn't care much about her sacrifice, nor how she'd spared mankind. She'd saved their lives and was rewarded with indifference. She saw things—people, and the line between good and evil—differently from then on.

Somehow, this idea took off—the character evolved, took over a big part of my life for a period of time, and became fairly well-known among some communities. Her story began to write itself, and what was once meant to tide me over until I could get myself back online with my friends became something of an obsession. To get this damn thing finished. The prompts, as follows below, don't really follow any linear chronology, are sometimes just based off a random idea that I don't consider to be her 'canonical' history, until about the 74th chapter (barring 76 Weight, which was written long before several others), when it starts to taper off into what I consider the meat of her story, and the beginning of the end—closure, for lack of a better word.

It's taken a lot of personal investment, to an unhealthy level at times, and a whole lot of time, as of yet unfinished, but getting there. Keep an open mind, and enjoy.

001. Phobia

002. Addict

003. Dance

004. Sing

005. Cruise

006. Careen

007. Psychic

008. Insomniac

009. Bath

010. Homo

011. Coma

012. Suicide

013. Traitor

014. Loyal

015. Miracle

016. Divorce

017. Function

018. Lonesome

019. Belch

020. Stink

021. Labor

022. Dropout

023. Quit

024. Aghast

025. Station

026. Nervous

027. Eliminate

028. Birth

029. Medicated

030. Poor

031. Rob

032. Confess

033. Forgive

034. Cranky

035. Breakdown

036. Still

037. Lover

038. Flame

039. Run

040. Wake

041. Speech

042. Last Wish

043. Angel

044. Elope

045. Blind

046. Dream

047. Journey

048. Drown

049. Alive

050. Stomach

051. Raw

052. Force

053. Power

054. Drive

055. Sore

056. Beg

057. Repeat

058. Rise

059. Mercy

060. War

061. Race

062. Blur

063. Coercion

064. Duty

065. Rivalry

066. Match

067. First

068. Skin

069. Overdose

070. Band

071. Alcoholic

072. Spiteful

073. Need

074. Pain

075. Bubble

076. Weight

077. Instrument

078. Dependant

079. Guide

080. Track

081. Lacking

082. Curse

083. Haircut

084. The Morning After

085. Sink

086. Cool

087. Crybaby

088. Admit

089. Defeat

090. Fickle

091. Haze

092. Speed

093. Ticket

094. Vomit

095. Bleeding

096. Wicked

097. The End

098. Rain

099. Funeral

100. Sunlight


	2. 008 Insomniac

008. Insomniac

Smut warning. Mild-ish...?

Even only half awake, Aerith was keenly aware of his breath against her neck, slow and steady in his gentle slumber, and the heat that radiated from his body as he lie behind her in his bed, an arm draped unceremoniously over her hip. He was pressed close to her back, nothing between them to shield her from the tingles that such close contact with him created. Her eyes opened fully.

It had been a long day, a good fifteen hours of it spent running errands for Rufus all over the map, and by the time she'd returned to Shin-Ra's headquarters, she was ready to collapse. Reno had graciously offered an invitation to come back to his place for a drink and she'd accepted with a sly grin. She likely would have ended up coming over, anyway, since she had nowhere to be that evening and a much needed day off following, and drinking with Reno was usually her passtime of choice. She had been looking forward to a night of immorality and a long, long nap. 

The nap wasn't coming so easily, however, as the Turk's lean body against hers was proving too great a distraction from sleep. Oh, they'd had their fun hours earlier, but the late night haze of her sleep-deprived brain paired with his bare chest against her exposed back was doing a number on her hormones. She would have thought she'd be exhausted after the work out he'd given her upon returning to his apartment, but she found that she still had a sneaky little cache of energy that was making itself known like a tidal wave.

It only got worse when he shifted his head on the pillow slightly, his lips now grazing the tender skin of her neck and his arm falling further across her, his hand finding a resting place just below her abdomen. _Oh dear god_. She didn't know exactly what it was, but such close proximity to him had always tickled her senses to the point where she had trouble focusing on anything else, and the fact that they were completely unclothed increased it tenfold.

When his fingers grazed lazily against her pelvic bone, her breath hitched and she bit her lip. She didn't dare wake him. The heat that was pooling in her groin, however, was soon going to be unbearable. She had to think of something. She closed her eyes and tried to will herself back to sleep. 

His long fingers twitched again and a whimper escaped her lips before her sleepy reflexes could catch it. _Oh damn_.

She was dimly aware that she couldn't hear his breathing so clearly anymore, but her mind was otherwise too occupied to give it much thought. There was no movement from either of them for several moments, and when she was confident that there wouldn't be for a while, she closed her eyes and tried again for sleep.

It was then that she felt movement against her neck once again. Something slick and warm, grazing over her pale flesh like a feather. Her eyes shot open as she recognized the sensation of his tongue. He was awake, and she was pretty damned certain at this point that he knew she was awake, as well. _Maybe he's a sleepwalker...? Or sleep... something or other? What do you call a person that tortures you in their sleep? A sleep-sadist?  
_  
His fingers curled and moved lower then, and all doubts of his consciousness flew out the window. Her lips parted in a gasp as she felt a single finger dip between her thighs and over the tiny knot of nerves at her center. She bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from moaning, but found the effort futile as his finger began to stroke skillfully at the sensitive flesh over and over. 

In seconds, her breathing had gone from long and deep to short and erratic, and low moans began to spill from her in quick succession. Her eyes closed again when she felt his mouth on her neck, nipping gently with his teeth and chasing each little bite with a soft kiss, as he continued his masterful ministrations. 

Her body temperature was increasing and her muscles were tightening in tiny waves throughout her body, the result of every stroke of his finger. She began to draw in breaths through clenched teeth between each soft moan, and when he added another finger to his endeavor to pleasure her, those moans quickly turned into whimpers as her release began to approach.

He nudged a knee between her own knees then, and forced them apart slightly, allowing his fingers better capacity to work the tiny nub more vigorously, but with practiced tenderness. Her mouth opened and silent cries began to spill over, moments before her body erupted into shudders as she came, blissfully unaware of the smirk that had formed over Reno's lips as he felt her muffled muscular contractions against his slowing fingers and the shivers of her body against his. 

His strokes became gentle and slow as she rode out her orgasm, and then he slowly pulled his fingers back, his lips placing a final kiss against her slender neck. "Go to sleep, darlin'," he whispered hoarsely. 

She grinned as her breath finally slowed down, a mixture of the aftermath of intense relief, and partial amusement. He'd known she was having trouble sleeping. _Such a gentleman_, she thought dryly, but still with honest appreciation.

It was rare when they were able to spend the entire night together, and she was secretly glad for it. If this was how she spent most of her nights, she'd never get any sleep again.


	3. 009 Bath

009. Bath

(Work in progress... not feelin' this one today. It seriously needs work. A couple of nods here and there, though.)

It was lovely. The candles that were dispersed about the room yielded the faintest scent of jasmine, and cast wavering shadows upon the bare white walls. The occasional droplet of the faucet's tap water tears was the only sound to be heard breaking the blissful silence, and steam wafted from the oval basin through a scattering of rose petals of violent crimson.

It was the closest thing to heaven for the brunette after a week of hell, and damned if she hadn't earned it. She settled into the hot water, a glass of Pinot Noir on the edge of the tub, a pack of cigarettes on the floor beside it and a lighter and ashtray within reach, a book on standby, and her beloved gun Torment nearby, as always, sitting beside her PHS. Her eyes closed and she sighed with contentment, leaning her head back on the rim of the tub, her dark hair tied loosely atop her head.

It was then that the first call came. She should have known better than to keep her PHS nearby. She _really_ should have known better than to start answering it. Sense just wasn't with her today.

It was Yuffie. A very clearly drunken Yuffie. "Aerith! I_ love_ you! You're my _best friend_..." And then the young ninja began crying and mumbling, most of it incoherent. Evidently, the girl wasn't very familiar witht the effects of alcohol. Aerith patiently gave her a pep talk, ensured her that the sky would stop spinning after a nice, long nap, and tried to politely end the conversation. Only at Yuffie's tearful insistence did Aerith give in and sing "Kumbaya" to help her to sleep.

The phone rang again soon after that. Figuring it was probably Yuffie again, she'd considered not answering until she finally looked at the caller ID. Tifa. With a sigh, Aerith pushed the talk button.

"I just don't know what to do anymore. I love him, but he's so _perverted_!"

Aerith mumbled a few absent "Uh huh"s and "I see"s. She had no idea who Tifa was even talking about. It was getting really difficult to keep up with Tifa's romantic exploits these days, ever since she'd given up on Cloud.

"All he wants to do is watch those damn birds have sex all day long."

_Waiiiiit._

"Huh?" Aerith blinked slowly. Who the hell _was_ she talking about? And, for crying out loud, _why_?

"And let's not even talk about what he uses those stalks of greens for. Gehhh."

"Alright," Aerith interjected with a sigh. "I just don't think I can handle this right now. I'd rather not get sick in my bathwater. Call me back later, okay?"

"Bathwater? But--"

Aerith hung up without another thought to the whiny pitch that had surfaced in Tifa's voice, and traded the phone for her glass of wine. She only got in a very unsatiating half of a sip before another call rattled her PHS. _Are you kidding? _

The display flashed Cid's number. That was odd. She lifted an eyebrow as she put down the wine glass and picked up the phone once more.

The words came in such a flurry of frantic grumbles and curses, that the only things she caught were "healing spell", "livestock", "abducted", "plasma torch", and "help". She managed to get in the words "bath" and "talk later" before she hung up quickly, in hopes that her brain wouldn't make an effort ot interpret any of that further, and threw back half of the contents of her wine glass. _Not drunk enough for livestock_.

She'd settled back in nicely when, without fail, the phone rang again. Cloud this time. "Tell me you have something useful and/or intelligible to say...?" she answered.

"Aerith, I've been thinking."

"Then obviously my hopes will go unfulfilled," she deadpanned.

He was oblivious. "I think the only way to redeem myself is to marry you. Or die."

She nearly choked as she drew in a breath. "I'm... sorry?"

"I let you die, Vincent is dead, you're raising your son by yourself, and I have to do something to help you. All of this is my fault, and if I can't do this, then... I'll just have to kill myself. If pain is the only way I can feel anything, then I'm really worth nothing! I know you had a thing for me, so I'm willing to let--"

_What the _fuck _I did?_ "No. Thanks. But no." _What the hell is going on around here? _"Why don't you start easy, huh? Go... sit in a dark corner and write some poetry. Maybe you can move up to cutting next week."

She pressed the 'end' button and contemplated throwing the phone against the wall. A cigarette sounded much more reasonable, however. One minute. One fucking minute of peace. That was all she wanted. One would think she'd suggested that the world be taken over by an uprising of rabid chocobos for as difficult a feat as it ended up being.

She'd just lit the cigarette when the phone rang. Yet again.

"Aerith," Barret's deep voice reverberated when she'd reluctantly answered. "I thought you should know. I'm movin' to Cosmo and I'm gittin' a sex change."

That was the wrong moment to take a drag of the cigarette. Her breath caught and she began to cough. Quickly, she hung up the phone before anymore words could be said and she ended up accidently killing herself.

She managed to get her breath under control and sat back in the bath, determined to have just one minute of stillness and peace, even in spite of the fact that the apocalypse was obviously among them.

She wasn't far off. The phone alerted her of another call, and she nearly burst into tears of frustration as she went to answer.

"Aerith, it's Nanaki."

_He can use a phone? What, did he dial with a pencil in his mouth?__  
_  
"It was quite difficult to call you, but it's urgent. Had to use a pen." He gave a snort of distaste, and Aerith would have snickered had she not been so annoyed. "I just wanted to say that I'm worried about Barret. I think that you might be the only one to talk some sense into him."

"I am?"

"Or perhaps cast a very, very potent spell," he continued in a nonchalant mumble that indicated he didn't want anyone else to hear.

_Ah, that's what it is._

"He's intent on getting a sex change... and he's looking through women's plus size catalogs already. I think someone hit him with a serious confuse spell. Something must be done. Quickly."

"I'll get back to you in an hour," she sighed and promptly hung up. _Just a minute of silence, for fuck's sake! How many times already have I saved these people's asses? Just one minute! _

Not to happen, of course, as the phone rang once more. Cursing up a storm, Aerith grabbed the phone without even looking, hit the talk button. "Someone better be really fucking dead."

"Quite the opposite, actually."

_That voice_.

"Vincent...?" she drawled out in a low voice. "...you're alive."

"I am..." he spoke softly. "You don't sound very surprised, my love..."_  
_  
"Well, call back tomorrow. I promise I'll try to be real fuckin' surprised then!"

When Aerith bolted awake in a tub full of tepid water to a racing heart and the sound of a ringing PHS, she paled. With a swift motion, she grabbed her gun, aimed, and promptly blew the device into a pleasing array of tiny shards. And smiled.

* * *

(I was feelin' uncreative. I plan to completely rewrite this later. I just wanted to get it out of the way.) 


	4. 011 Coma

011. Coma

She'd been listening to it for what seemed like ages, and it suddenly made sense to her why people had such a hard time regaining consciousness in this kind of situation. That incessant beeping was enough to make anyone sleep for days on end.

It was for her. She wasn't certain how long she'd been out, or how she'd even gotten there. It could have merely been a few hours, but for all she could tell, it could have been months, too. All she knew what that there were often long periods of silence, then that beeping sound and other various indistict noises. Then, on occasion, there were voices. Mostly those she vaguely recognized.

The first had been the voices of Tifa and Barret, but she'd had trouble placing them for the first few minutes. Tifa sounded like she'd been crying. "...said he was sorry that he couldn't come. I... I personally don't think he could handle seeing you like this again." She broke off to take a few breaths. "Especially at the hands of the same person he'd failed to once before. I told him you'd understand..."

Barret sounded much more composed. "Yuffie and Red send their regards, and they got you some flowers. They smelled like shit, so I threw 'em out on the way over. Not like you can smell 'em, and shit, if you could, I wouldn't wanna make ya inhale that shit fo'--"

"Barret!" Tifa gasped.

There was silence again, but just when she was sure that her guests were long gone, she heard Barret's voice drift back again, this time much quieter. "...if anyone can, it's you."

More sniffling and some shuffling about, and then just the mechanical beeping again.

Next had been Al. She had no idea how long he'd been there, or if he'd been speaking the whole time, but when she felt a gentle kiss on her forehead, and a single utterance, she recognized the accent of her dear friend immediately. "He'll pay, I promise."

She'd managed to piece together that someone had done something very bad, but past that, her brain wasn't in the shape to figure anything more. She was tired and that beeping was lulling her back into oblivion, her last thought of wondering if maybe her son would come to see her. Or maybe Reno. Or even Sef. Or maybe they already had, and she'd missed it.

Some while later, she heard another voice. It was familiar, deep like his father's, and wracked with something indistinguishable, but decidedly negative. _Ash_. She felt a brief sense of relief that she hadn't missed his visit after all. The tiny whimper she heard along with him told her that he'd brought his infant sister, Momoku. She fought to stay cognizant, but found the task difficult.

"...know if you can hear me, but...

_Beep... beep..._

"...just like you to do something like this..."

_Beep... beep..._

"...scared. Take her in just to disappear on her? What kind of mother..."

_...beep... beep... beep..._

"...can't raise a small kid on my own, she needs you..."

_Beep... beep... beep..._

She began to drift out again, as she started to hear longer lulls between his words. Or was it something else?

"..loves you, Mom... she doesn't want you to..."

The silence pulled her back, and she was glad for it this time. Her heart was breaking as she heard the fading sound of her son crying.

More time passed, and when she heard the beeping again, she'd noticed it was coming in quicker succession than usual. She listened for an unclear length of time, the sound having become a strange source of comfort for her. She wondered if perhaps she'd ever be able to sleep again without that sound droning away in the background.

The sudden sound of shuffling feet alerted her that she wasn't alone, and possibly hadn't been for a while. She tried to focus hard, in case they were trying to say something.

Again, nothing but the steady beeping.

She was just about convinced that she'd imagined it when a comfortingly familiar scent of cigarettes and whiskey flooded her sense of smell, mingled with another scent, so distictly _him_, and she felt his breath against her ear.

Only a whisper was uttered.

If she could have, she'd have replied with nothing but a knowing smirk.


	5. 023 Quit

023. Quit

(The lyrics ain't mine. Duh. Prequel to "Coma")

Aerith knew something was different the moment she carelessly closed the door to the dilapidated apartment she'd been staying in, even in spite of the fact that she was so drunk she couldn't see straight. Something out of place. Noise.

Not just any noise, but music. A low scratchy droning of vocals, and she recognized the quiet and almost creepy melody, with that telltale hint of mischief underlying. _Sins of the Father_.

She might have appreciated it if it weren't for the fact that she had not left any music playing when she'd gone out hours before, but then... she was too drunk to remember anything with great clarity. She couldn't even determine where the music was coming from, but there was no question whether or not it was playing inside that very dwelling.

Upon discovering that she was leaning almost all of her weight upon the door, she jerked herself away from it, exerting more strength than she'd intended to, and stumbled slightly as she struggled to maintain her balance.

"Shit," she cursed quietly, finally becoming steady on her feet, though her vision was still spinning. She had half a mind to shake herself from the stupor, but managed to talk herself out of it, realizing at the last moment that it might not be a wise thing to do.

She took a long breath and stepped forward as carefully as she could manage, intending to find the source of the music that was still resounding its mellow tune through the place. It occurred to her then that she should probably be armed, but then she had to wonder if she'd just be setting herself up for disaster. _Hm..._

She made an audible noise of dismissal and drew her pocket knife, smoothly flicking the switch to snap the blade open. She held the grip of the weapon tightly, afraid of underestimating her hold and accidentally dropping it at a compromising moment.

The thick soles of her black boots carried her stealthily across the aged hardwood floor that was splashed with slivers of moonlight through the blinds from the window, and to the direction of the bedroom door. The music became clearer, telling her she was heading to the right place.

"_Birds cry warning from a hidden branch  
Carvin' out a future with a gun and an axe  
I'm way beyond the gavel and the laws of man..._"

When she reached the entrance to the bedroom, she had to take a breath from another wave of dizziness washing over her, and she rested her shoulder against the doorjamb. It took a few moments before she noticed that the door was slightly ajar.

She suddenly remembered that she had her PHS in her jacket pocket and she withdrew it with her free hand. She was drunk, and if someone was in there, poised to attack, it was fairly safe to assume she was going get a sound beating. She hated being helpless, but figured she'd live through the inevitable teasing this once. She pushed a button that would emit an emergency page before re-pocketing the device.

She raised the hand that clutched the knife and pushed against the door with the blunt end of the handle. Peering in, she was met with darkness, but something was very wrong. Or she was just a very paranoid drunk.

She cautiously stepped in and immediately wished she hadn't as a gloved hand clamped over her mouth.

_Aha! I'm not just paranoid!_

She found her back pressed up against another person, tall and male, and her eyes widened. On instinct, she jerked to the side, sending the blade of the knife that her assailant hadn't noticed yet straight into his thigh.

Her mouth was released instantly as she heard a pained groan. Before she could turn to look, she was brutally pushed to the ground, a knee digging into her back and a strong hand forcefully yanking her head up off of the wooden floor by her hair, eliciting a groan of her own. Her brow furrowed in disappointment that she'd apparently been too drunk to effectively aim and sever his femoral artery.  
_  
I missed_, she thought incredulously. She rarely missed. Then again she rarely engaged in hand-to-hand combat while completely wasted.

"You... are supposed to be _dead_," a voice hissed against her ear in a deathly black whisper.

She groaned again at the voice and shut her eyes tightly, trying to focus and will away the drunken fog. That pint of whiskey just wasn't going to allow for it, however, nor was the music that reverberated in her ears, seemingly increasing in volume.

_"Everybody knows that the game was rigged  
Justice wears suspenders and a powdered wig  
Dark town alleys been hiding you  
Long bell tolling is your Waterloo..."_

A searing pain shot down her spine, and she sucked in a breath through her teeth. With a grunt she twisted herself abruptly, delivering a hard elbow to the face of her attacker. He jolted to the side from the force just enough for her to wriggle out from underneath him and she shot to her feet, gritting her teeth against the dizziness. She wasted no time, though, and sent a steel toed boot into his ribs, the only clear target she could make out through the dark and the drunkenness.

In another second she found herself on her back, her spine shooting another bolt of pain through her, and her head was suddenly pounding. Had she hit something?

_"Feel the heat and the burn on your back  
The rip and the moan and the stretch of the rack  
All my belongings in a flour sack  
Will the place I come from  
Take me back..."_

Her brow furrowed in pain as she tried to push herself up, but discovered quickly that she was pinned down by a dark and seething figure that loomed over her, straddling her torso. She could feel her head being lifted once more by her hair, but most of her senses began to dull after the first loud crash as her skull met with the floor.

She hardly felt the following ones through the initial blur of pain. The only thing she could feel after a few moments was that there was a puddle under her head, and it felt cold to her.

Gradually, the pain was becoming more tolerable, and she only winced slightly when she heard a cracking sound in her ribcage. Her body was soon wracked with coughs, though she didn't remember choking on anything.

There was a faint tingle as something thick dripped from the corner of her lips with the swiftness of molasses, but she paid it little mind. Her vision was darkening around the edges, and she could only distinguish outlines, illuminated by moonlight. Brilliant flashes of silver.

_"I's born at this time for a reason you see  
When I'm dead I'll be dead a long time  
But the wine's so pleasing and so sublime..."  
_  
She wasn't positive how it happened, but she found herself on her stomach again, the side of her face and her mass of hair coated in the pool of dark liquid she now lie in. Breathing was becoming a chore and she narrowed an eye as she considered giving up trying, the result only being a series of jarring coughs that only refreshed the pain each time she tried. What was the point in that case?

She'd forgotten about the other person in the room, and had no idea if he was still there or not. Most of her body had fallen numb and her eyes were opening and closing in sporadic intervals. The music was pleasant, she thought, a compliment to the serenity that began to seep into her.

_"I'm gonna take the sins of my father  
I'm gonna take the sins of my mother  
I'm gonna take the sins of my brother  
Down to the pond..."_

She drew in a breath again, slowly, trying hard not to cough. She wanted to lift her head from the puddle under her to avoid inhaling it, but her muscles weren't obeying her commands. Somehow the only thing she registered was that she was alone and the room was cold, only the sound of the somber lament blanketing her.

_"Kissed my sweetheart by the Chinaball tree  
Everything I done is between God and me..."_

She tried again to inhale, her eyes opening to catch sight of something glimmering and familiar on the floor a few feet away, splattered with dark stains.

_"Only he will judge how my time was spent  
29 days of sinning and 40 to repent..."  
_  
Recognition sunk in and she might have smiled at seeing that he hadn't run off with her beloved knife. She'd had it for years. The smile wouldn't come, though, and her breaths were soon nothing more than labored gasps, lungs burning. _Too tired_.

_"The horse is steady but the horse is blind  
Wicked are the branches on the tree of mankind  
The roots grow upward and the branches grow down  
It's much too late to throw the dice again I've found..."_

Her eyelids became heavy and veridian eyes glazed over. She didn't hear the heavy footfalls trekking in her direction that sped up upon reaching the door of her bedroom, nor the alarmed repeating of her name. She listened to the music as she finally decided breathing was futile.

And then just... gave up.

_"...I'm gonna wash them  
I'm gonna wash the sins of my Father  
I'm gonna wash the sins of my Mother  
I'm gonna wash the sins of my Brother  
Till the water runs clear  
Till the water runs clear..."_


	6. 025 Station

025. Station

Rain was pattering softly on what sounded like a tin roof and there was a glass door of unremarkable standard size. Through the panes she could see grass, as tall as her boots and as green as her eyes.

The atmosphere had a bluish quality, the sky painted with clouds of varying shades of grey. Delicate crystalline drops against the glass softened the edges of world, magnifying the colors in millions of tiny shreds as they streamed down to meet their destiny with the planet itself.

There was a tree in the distance, shrouded in cotton candy pink blossoms, swaying and bowing under the weight of the water.

"Is this where you want to be?"

_Yes.  
_  
She blinked and shook herself from her reverie, eyes darting across the table to her companion. _Wait_. "Did you say something, Ash?"

His youthful red eyes narrowed and an involuntary smirk tugged the corner of his lips as he shook his head, sending a glance out the window of the quaint coffee shop to the rain-pelted street. "Spacing out on me again?"

She flinched and offered a conciliatory grin. "Just a bit."

"I said, is this where you want to be?" He repeated, eyes fixing on her once again.

Her head slowly crooked to one side as she studied him. He couldn't have been asking about their present surroundings. He was too cryptic for that, even for a teenager. A trait he'd inherited from his father, much to her chagrin. She was more a fan of straight-forwardness.

"What are you asking me exactly?" She inquired with a sigh.

"About your life," he replied plainly, eyes dropping to stare into his half empty cup of coffee.

She understood quite well then and she leaned forward to rest on her elbows on the table, wrapping a delicate hand around the cup that sat before her and tracing a finger around the edge.

"Am I happy, in other words," she clarified, not really asking. She let her eyes drift to the wood grains on the maple table, subconsciously seeking out little hidden patterns. How many times had she almost let herself ask this same question? She'd acknowledged many times that she was far from a perfect being, but she never dared truly ask if she really wanted it that way. She was afraid of what the answer would be.

Ash said nothing for a few minutes as he patiently waited for the verdict, his own eyes watching her finger line the rim of her cup. He'd observed so many of her nervous habits, and knew that this meant she was thinking herself into a chaotic cyclone of self-analysis. He opened his mouth and he sighed. "It's a simple question."

"No, it's not," she chuckled, sliding her gaze up to him.

"I think you make it more complicated than it has to be," he shot back with an amused cocking of an eyebrow.

She did that, didn't she? Her shoulders lifted in a shrug as she turned back to the window. What had she been imagining moments before? Not these cars and pedestrians with oversized umbrellas, hastily trying to get out of the rain as though it was poison.

She brushed it off with an aversion of her eyes, and her lips quirked with a smile as she fixed her eyes back on him, glossing over the short but shaggy ebony hair that framed his pallid face. She remained quiet for a moment before speaking, choosing her words with careful deliberation. "I... know who I am."

"...The hell does that mean?" He asked with such confusion it was almost tangible.

"It means," she began matter-of-factly, finger stilling on the rim of the ceramic and lifting it to take a sip from the cooling contents before resuming her sentence, "that I know where I belong."

_Yick._ Why was it she always ended up drinking more cold coffee than hot?

Ash's black brows furrowed even more if that was possible. "What are you talking about, lady?"

She almost grinned. Sometimes it was fun to give him a taste of what he made her deal with on a daily basis. "Just... think about it, hun."

With that, she stood and leaned over to kiss his forehead as she skirted past him gingerly, not waiting for him to join her. He'd catch up.

Minutes later, they walked slowly through the pouring rain, neither concerned with getting drenched as they rapidly were becoming. They both watched as all the other occupants of the street were scrambling for shelter, chuckling when they would be greeted with looks of bewilderment at their lack of haste to do the same. There was a slight chill in the air, but it affected neither of them to the point they wanted to end their casual stroll. Rainy days were not that common in Edge, or at least not as common as they would have liked. It would be a waste otherwise.

"Where are we going, Mother?" Ash asked in his perpetually gruff tone.

"Art supply store," she stated without further explanation, her face lifted heavenward to feel the rain on her skin.

Ash nearly stumbled and looked at her incredulously. She wasn't an artist. Neither was he. This was Aerith, though. Quirky, impulsive, atypical. He decided not to even ask.

She hadn't really been lying when she'd answered his question earlier, as vague as it had been. She knew her limits, knew well what she deserved, what she didn't, and what she would allow herself to take anyway.

She knew something else, too. If no such place existed, that utopia that belonged only to her most shadowed dreams, then she would create it for herself. Even if only in a painting.


	7. 030 Poor

030. Poor

(Part 1 of 2, continued in the next chapter, "Rob".)

Dead.

She was fucking dead.

He was going to kill her. A long, slow, painful demise. Something tedious and excruciating. He wouldn't be merciful enough to use the EMR. Though that hardly suggested a quick, painless end. No, he'd be savage about it. Maybe a small and reasonably blunt object. Like the eraser end of a pencil. Or a spoon.

A pale finger tugged at her plush lower lip as she stared into the empty cabinet. She didn't _remember_ imbibing that much liquor. It wasn't possible, was it?

She clenched the fingers of her other hand tightly, and the answer jabbed her sharply through the lace and in the skin of her palm. She winced. Damn key. The only key, the very one to that liquor cabinet, and the one she was presently in possession of since he'd left it with her ten days ago.

There was no getting out of this one.

She didn't have to look to know that she had no cash on her at the moment, and the soon-to-be furious redhead was on his way back from his trip, no doubt exhausted and in need of a good long bender.

She looked down at her wrist, clad in nothing but a fingerless lace glove, and shook her head. _There's never been a watch there. Why am I looking?_

Jade orbs slid in the direction of the clock on the microwave of the disorganized kitchen. It was seven hours and thirty four minutes off time, and she knew that only by having spent countless hours in this apartment. It was fairly easy to tell time with the thing, in spite of its blinking red lie.

She had at least thirty minutes before he was due to arrive. There was one thing to do.

She drew Torment, the beloved Smith & Wesson Model 500 Magnum she'd so luckily remembered to carry today, and checked its rounds. Only one shot short of a full chamber. Good enough.

With that, she tucked the heavy revolver away and made a beeline for the door and out the building.


	8. 031 Rob

031. Rob

(Part 2 of 2, continued from "Poor". Took some liberties with Al's character. Thanks, Al!)

"Are you fucking _crazy?!"_

Aerith just laughed weakly, winded from all the running. "Come on, Al. Almost there." Her heavy boots were making hard staccato thuds on the ground as she ran, her sprints becoming slower as she began to tire. She didn't have to glance back to know that her friend was only a few paces behind her, the jangling of glass bottles giving him away easily.

Finally, they reached their destination, a quiet and narrow little alley that remained unregulated by police, the alley notoriously known as a warzone by various types of criminals once nightfall hit. Aerith was admittedly a little proud that she was often one of the contributors.

She panted, leaning against the grey stucco wall and doubling over, her hands supporting her upper body weight on her knees.

"Look at me! Look at my coat!" Al exclaimed, setting down a rather large cardboard box in the middle of the alley and looking down at his bloodstained black attire.

"It's black," she rasped, trying to stifle her laughter. "No one can tell."

"Do you have to use such a bloody big gun?" He groaned, making faces of distaste as he tried to wipe off the excess blood as though it was acid. "That thing is bigger than you are. Why do you carry that god-awful enormous... _thing_?" Apparently, he couldn't find a more suitable word.

"So I can bitch slap Dirty Harry if he ever comes callin' me a punk with that pussy .44," she replied casually, checking herself over for stains. There were none. _Damn, I'm good._

Al paused and gave her a look.

"It was a gift!" She defended, rolling her eyes. She made a pouty face when he turned away to tend to his clothing again and mumbled, "And it's pretty."

"You might have told me before you came looking for my assistance with this little crusade that you only had four bullets left," he grumbled.

"Well, I wasn't gonna shoot anyone until you started firin' off rounds like a spastic rampaging psych ward escapee with your little..." She made a pointing gesture with a hand as she tried to think of some insulting name for his own firearm. "...peashooter there."

"_Peashooter_?" He squawked incredulously. He drew his .454 Casull Auto and held it up in front of her. "_THIS_?"

"Only in comparison..." she muttered, her eyes shifting.

He just sneered and shoved the piece back in its holster. "Well, I wouldn't have done that if I'd known you would start _pistol whipping_ angry merchants with _shotguns_ when you ran out of ammo, _dear_ _Aerith_."

She couldn't contain a series of snickers that broke from her. That _was_ funny. It was even better that the majority of the blood on Al's clothes wasn't from her gunshots at all, but from just that action.

"Bloody hell," he cursed, giving up on getting the stains from his clothing. "You know, I am quite certain that whomever this is for..." He gave a nudge with his boot to the box filled with various types of alcohol. "...values your life more than this... _stuff_."

"Oh, you don't know him like I do," she replied, shaking her head. "I don't want to die by pencil eraser, thank you."

Al slowly lifted an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

Aerith blinked and shuddered. "Nevermind. Well, I have a delivery to make, so... I'll see ya! Thanks!"

She heaved the box up into her arms and began to jog down the alley in the other direction, leaving Al staring stupified at her lithe figure as it disappeared around the corner.

"Bloody psycho."

He was just as crazy for having feelings for this deranged woman.


	9. 040 Wake

040. Wake

(This is pretty much directly roleplay style literature here, "----" signifying a POV change. Co-written by my dear friend Reno as... erm... Reno.)

(Continuation of Coma, Nervous, Quit...)

* * *

Her first thought was that the sun needed to be immediately removed from the sky and stashed away, never to be heard from again. The light from a window was shining through her eyes like lasers, even through tightly closed lids. 

Her second thought was _pain_. Her mouth opened, though she found that feat trickier than it should have been, and a mangled and broken groan freed itself from low in her throat. The sound was awful and made her head pound with the hard pangs that felt like a sledgehammer.

She didn't have time to dwell on her horrid sounding voice, nor the ache in her head, before she realized that it _hurt_ to breathe, having to gasp after her cry of misery.

_Oh god, make it stop._

Her eyes shot open and she quickly regretted it, her pupils fully dilated and unable to focus, seized with nothing but knife-like light.

She heard frantic footsteps clammer into the room and someone with a grainy grandmother voice telling her to relax.

"Fuck you," Aerith rasped, her throat stinging as her eyes shut tightly against the nauseating waves of entirely too many afflictions. She was furious. And how was she supposed to relax when she felt nothing but intense jolts of pain through every portion of her body? Blinding, incapacitating, agonizing...

...blissful, euphoric paradise.

She was out cold in seconds after the injection.

* * *

When she came to a while later, the pain was more bearable, and there was a pair of tearful garnet-brown eyes peering down at her from a few inches away.

Her instinct was to grab her knife, but found she was just too tired and her muscles felt like jelly.

"If you're here to kill me..." she whispered, "...alright."

"Aerith!" Tifa cried, giving the bedridden woman a hug as gently as she could and sobbing into her hair.

Aerith blinked a few times, her eyes finally absorbing her surroundings, and somewhat more alert from the pain she felt while this crying girl tried to maul her. Or... not.

It was then she registered the voice.

"Tifa?" She whispered, though she'd intended to make more sound. Her throat was painfully raw.

She heard a sniffle before Tifa lifted her head and smiled down at her, tears falling rapidly down her cheeks.

"They... t-told me you... were awake... but... I didn't believe..."

She broke off again, fresh sobs shaking her as she bent down to hug her dear, formerly comatose friend again.

"T-..." Aerith tried to breathe, but she was already winded. "Tif-... what... happened?" _Please stop hugging me_.

She could tell by now that she was in the hospital, and she was more than likely hooked up to a morphine drip from the way she was feeling. She remembered how bad it hurt when she woke up the first time, but this was far more manageable.

Tifa pulled back, her expression of tearful joy melting into one of tearful distress as she plopped down into a chair and began stammering through sobs.

Aerith couldn't understand a single word.

She managed to make her hand work, albeit very slowly, and finally held it up to get Tifa to stop, wanting to spare herself the pain of using her throat again.

It didn't work.

"Tifa," she whispered harshly, the sound coming out in a hiss. "Calm... no... calm down... good. That's it. Now... get someone... that can... form sentences... and tell me... what happened."

All her effort was wasted as Tifa burst into more wailing ramblings of... someone... no, everyone.. being gone... for some... tournament... in the Gold Saucer?

_Wha...?_

_Everyone?!_

_Great._

The doctors could give her a laundry list of injuries, she was sure, but it was doubtful they knew just _how_ she ended up this way.

Maybe they'd all given her up for dead and moved on with their lives. No problem. But just how long had she been here? She looked down at herself, significanly more gaunt than she last remembered being, and she could tell it had at least been a couple of weeks. Probably not much longer.

She certainly wasn't about to get the answer out of Tifa, who was mumbling something about Ash having to leave to take care of Momo, but that he knew she was awake. It wasn't surprising that he'd stay away for a while until he was ready to see her.

Had Sef given her up, too? And Reno? The rest of ShinRa? It was true she wasn't really one of them, more like just a contractor, really, but they all knew each other well. Some more than others...

She swallowed as she thought of Reno. She could swear she recalled hearing his voice, somewhat recently, but with the clarity of a long passed dream. She wanted to see him. Just make sure that he was alright. Who knows what had happened to her to get her this way? What if he'd been there with her?

Her eyes shifted back to Tifa and she cleared her throat, wincing at the wretched sting. "Tifa... call... Reno."

He and the rest of them at least deserved to know she was awake, if they were all intact, that was. She knew Tifa wouldn't be surprised. Tifa knew of Aerith's business with ShinRa, and that she and Reno were regular drinking buddies.

Tifa wiped her tears away, though Aerith couldn't figure out why, since they were still spilling over without any sign of stopping. The martial artist drew her PHS and shakily dialed a number.

When Tifa began speaking into the phone, Aerith rolled her eyes. Tifa was crying hysterically again, and Aerith couldn't understand one word past the first one. "Aerith." Likely Reno wouldn't either. She couldn't even tell if he'd answered or she'd gotten his voicemail, knowing he rarely exerted the effort into answering the damn thing, but as Tifa's ramblings continued, Aerith felt the urge to laugh for the first time since she'd awoken. She could imagine Reno staring with an incredibly exasperated scowl at his phone as he listened to her.

Painful as it was, she burst into a fit of laughter, the sound hoarse, but at least she knew her voice still worked.

"Jesus, Tifa, don't frighten the poor guy," she chuckled, her eyelids gradually lowering again as more morphine trickled through her. "Just... mm... come... see me."

Tifa sniffled and grinned at her sheepishly, clicking off the phone.

Aerith smiled in return, forcing herself to stay awake, and just waited with slow-blinking eyes.

----

ShinRa Co. was re-established. Everyone knew this although its name was still tarnished. The people no longer truly trusted it, but with the aid of Reeve things were slowly starting to make a comeback. Rufus ShinRa still had heaps of money, all of which was being funded to the men of WRO. Of course, the most loyal of the Corporation still lingered; the Turks. Reno had been up on the rightful floor where the Turks resided, his head buried in his arms. It had been thirteen straight hours of nothing but paperwork. The new orders of Reeve's were being processed and all the Turks had their share in overlooking then passing it on to the next higher up.

He fought with the fax machine all day today, ready to break out the metal bat on it. He had been ignoring all calls as well, not wanting anything else to be added on his piling list of things to do. He sighed and heard the vibration of his PHS by his side, but he didn't bother to look at the number. A few moments later the remains of his voicemail screamed out its presence. He sighed and grasped the device in his hand, flipping it open and pressing the pass code that followed.

"You have reached Red-Hot's Voicemail, please type in your password." And he did what he was told; his ShinRa Turk number.

"You have one new message, ten saved messages. To listen to your messages press seven," the monotone voice stated and Reno listened intently to the message that wasn't anything more than sobs and incoherent words. He did know one thing, it was Tifa and her uncontrollable sobbing that he often heard ever since Cloud went MIA again. He rolled his eyes and knew this was probably some sort of pity phone call again. He didn't have time for this. He heard the name, though, that sputtered from her lips; Aerith.

Instantly a small wave of shock gathered over his senses. Did something happen? And why would Tifa call him exactly? He tried to recollect his thoughts, almost ignoring the voice in the background. It was faint and he had to go through and repeat the whole message again to get it correct. The tone, although low and barely audible, was that of Aerith's.

It wasn't long before he clicked the phone down and placed it within the pocket of his pants. He grabbed his jacket and flung it over his shoulder, announcing his departure on other serious issues at hand.

No one questioned him. By the expression on his face they knew not to question a Senior Turk when he had something urgent come up. In no time he was already making his way across the parking lot and reaching his POS rust burdened Jeep. Squealing wheels brought him out of the garage area and out on the streets. The hospital was located on the top plate, no doubt, and he knew that it wouldn't take long before he circled into the parking lot of the hospital.

That same stoic expression settled on his face, snubbing off all the doctors that glanced at him with their fake smiles. He hated them. ALL of them.

When finally reaching the door where she resided in, he took a deep breath and shuffled in. His eyes adverting instantly to her once more, a soft smile gracing his lips. She still looked like hell, but at least now he could see the skin tone back in her cheeks.

"Aerith." He couldn't think of anything other than her name to escape from his lips and all he could muster was to stand by her bed. He brought his hand up to rub his neck idly, it had been sometime since he even heard her voice and he waited patiently for that soft-spoken timbre. He had left his jacket in the car, only being in his formal oxford shirt that still was unbuttoned a good ways down. His hands were shoved inside his pockets, fumbling with his lighter while keeping his eyes on her face.

----

Emerald eyes, tired and bloodshot from not being used so heavily in weeks, were merely half lidded when the Turk entered the room and she turned her head to face the visitor. Upon sight of the familiar unkempt array of fire red hair, her eyes widened and she attempted to sit up, but winced as pain shot through her again.

She swallowed as she settled back again, her eyes glued to his, not even noticing as Tifa slipped from the room with a small smile on her face.

She managed to pull her eyes away to look over him for any sign of injury. He seemed okay. _Thank God_. Even more miraculous was that he'd actually gotten Tifa's call in a reasonable amount of time. And understood it.

Her eyes fixed on his again and she opened her mouth to speak, her voice only slightly better than it was before. "Tiger... god, you scared me."

She figured it might not make sense to him, but it was the foremost thought on her mind and the only thing she could think of to say. Well, other than things she wasn't sure he wanted to hear so soon since her awakening.

----

He slid his eyes towards the brunette with a small smile, she seemed to have the right idea to leave. He noted her eyes were still rimmed with redness. She really was sobbing uncontrollably on the phone and it was amazing he could make out what she said. However his eyes darted back to his drinking buddy, quite astonished about her wordplay.

He scared her? He let a playful roll of the eyes settle forth before walking beside her bed. His hands curling around the railing, his head leaning downwards in order to avoid the machines that loomed over him. They still held their constant pattern of beeps.

"Let me get this straight. You are here.. in a coma.. lookin'.. -- " he stopped himself. No one ever liked hearing WHAT the looked like in the hospital. So for once he held his tongue on the sarcastic remarks. Instead he shook his head and forced a smile on his lips. "You are the one in the hospital babe, not me. You scared me.. well, a lot of people at that." He sent his eyes downwards, tracing the tube that held her morphine. He ignored where it settled into her vein.

----

A smirk formed on her lips. God, what a mess she must look like. She didn't even want to think about the fact that he was seeing her in such atrocious shape. She'd seen how pale and thin she'd become, and still hadn't even seen her own face yet. Hell, she still had no idea what had even happened to her. She was sure of one thing, though. Tifa knew. Surely everyone must have by now. They didn't want to tell her who had done this.

She cleared her throat, biting back a groan of pain as she looked up to Reno's eyes, the familiar aquamarine hue she'd been wanting to see since she'd woken up.

"I... was scared that something happened. I was afraid that you... were with me... and... "

She pursed her lips against uninvited emotion. It was stupid, and she was in a chemically induced haze that was making her a little overactive, though she was still fairly cognizant.

She drew in a breath, blinking tears away that had involuntarily formed, and slowly lifted a frail hand to touch one of his own that clung to the rail. "I don't remember what happened."

----

His eyes never moved from her own as she trembled with her choice in words. He wondered what she had been thinking, if the brain was allowed to think when in a coma. He truthfully didn't remember one thing about being out cold those weeks when he was in critical care himself. A sigh slipped through his lips as he shook his head, trying best to comfort her in any form.

He felt that he was failing. The tears that slowly filled her eyes sent his eyebrows to lift upwards. He didn't want her to cry, he never wanted that. "Hey hey.. I'm alright. No one is hurt.. well.. heh." He tried to play out his normal ways, how he made mostly everything a joke or twisted it in some form to induce a smile. "It's alright.. "

It was probably best she didn't know what happened to her. But in reality it was only logical that she did ask such questions. She was in the hospital right? He brought his hand to slip from her frail hold on him, bringing it up and lightly touching the side of her face with his knuckles.

"Rudo found you.. Surprisin' eh?" He forced out a smile, his eyes never leaving from her own jade ones.

----

She chuckled a bit, her head tilting a little towards the hand that grazed over her face, repeating Rude's name in amusement.

Drowsiness began to settle in and she looked down to the vein in her arm that was deeply punctured by the obnoxiously oversized needle. She examined it, then glanced up at the source of the drip and slowly began to extract the IV.

She wanted to be fully conscious for this conversation. She winced, but managed to send Reno a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Tell me..." she breathed through gritted teeth, still pulling at the needle. Christ, how long _was_ this thing? "Do you know...? And... how long have I been here?"

----

He noted her winces and shot his eyes downwards to her actions.

"Jesus Christ!" He pulled his hand away and gripped onto her own frail wrists, however he made sure not to apply that much pressure. "Will you stop?! You need that shit or you'll be pullin' that needle next to my throat for help." He kept his hand on her own, making sure she didn't try to even pull it out even more.

"You don't need all these answers. You just need rest. .. Just stop." He groaned, knowing well she wouldn't comply to his wishes until she found out everything she wanted to know. She was just stubborn like that. "Just.. stop pullin' that nasty thing out.." He didn't care for needles much, well, when they were in other people's arms. He had no trouble pushing narcotics in his own veins.

".. I'll tell you if you stop hurtin' yourself. Just .. lie back will you?"

----

Aerith sighed and gave in with a nod of her head. She freed one arm from his gentle grasp and reached up the reduce the drip on the apparatus itself, before sinking back against the inclined mattress.

Her eyes slid up to meet his once more and she offered a remorseful smile. "Sorry, Tiger."

She hurt like hell, but she'd deal with it. She was already plotting the death of whatever unfortunate soul had done this to her. But first she had to know just how bad it was, and she had her own trust issues when it came to doctors. She wanted it from the lips of someone she trusted implicitly, and someone who might actually know something useful.

Her fingers idly toyed with his, bracing herself for the worst.

----

He cantered out a sigh when she finally stopped the pulling of the needle. He wasn't satisfied with her shutting off her only source of release from the pain, but he knew he couldn't do anything else to stop her. She was always so stubborn, all those bottle fights that she just had to win..

He shook the thought from his mind and focused back on her pale features. He needn't say too much, just one simple name would be enough.

"Sephiroth."

It took sometime to collect that information. He actually had to do some undercover work himself. ShinRa held secrets, even from their employees. Sephiroth was still an extremely touchy subject and only a select few were granted such access. The Turks were not to get involved in this case but Reno took it upon himself to retrieve the information.

"But enough about that. You just.. need to get some rest alright? Get better soon so I won't be all alone with just a bottle of Jack Daniels. It's no fun drinkin' alone, ya know."

----

The news had jolted her, but she panicked inwardly at his words, figuring that it meant he was leaving. She didn't want to be alone. Sephiroth had been her best friend, and pain was seeping back into her, though she wasn't sure if it was merely a figment of her mind, maybe a recollection of what had happened. Or if the morphine was wearing off already.

It didn't matter.

"Reno," she spoke softly, grasping his hand as firmly as her weakened muscles would allow. "Don't."

She swallowed, blinking up at him. "You... came to see me, didn't you?"

----

He smiled softly at her question as his hand was brought upwards to lightly graze the side of her face. He shook his head while tugging his lips into a grin. "No babe, I came here to see all the old people on their bedpans." Of course he came to see her, he didn't screech out of the parking lot for nothing almost hitting a few rookie Turks on the way.

While he kept his vision on her, he snaked his free arm upwards so that release was made for her morphine. She was making herself suffer and if he got away with this act, he would be happy to see her finally slumber in a well given rest.

"Of course I came to see you. Why else am I here?"

----

She didn't have to look to know that he was releasing the drip again, but merely stuck her tongue out at him. "Meanie."

A gentle smile curled her lips and she let her head fall back against the pillow, her hand rising to touch his own against her face. She knew his actions were quite the opposite.

"...that's not what I meant. I mean... while I was... comatose." The drugs were coursing through her veins again and her eyes began to blink slowly, but never leaving his. "I... thought... I heard you."

Her hand fell limply and her eyes closed, but she fought sleep. She didn't want him to leave her yet. She wished she could remember what she'd heard, but she was certain it had been his voice. Although, to learn she was completely delusional would be just what she needed to top off this excessively _pleasant_ experience.

----

Aquamarine eyes watched her fight against the inevitable sleep that was slowly draining her body. Upon hearing her question he simply kept that smile. His body leaning down as she slowly started to succumb to the effects of the drug. He didn't answer her, instead he pressed his lips to her forehead in a silent form of answering her question.

"I won't leave darlin'.." he whispered so very close to her ear. And he knew he wouldn't leave, not until her mind was at ease. If he could grant her at least that.


	10. 042 Last Wish

042. Last Wish

A bone chilling gust of wind ripped through the trees of the cemetery, but the brunette barely noticed. The bottle of scotch in her hand was helping with that. The stone of the grave marker was cold, but she was comfortably leaning her back against it, the fabric of the black coat she wore making for a little extra padding.

She'd been sitting there for maybe twenty minutes, mindlessly mumbling through chattering teeth to the ears of the dead, filling them in on all the details of her life that she'd never tell any living person. She had too many secrets, too many skeletons. Those belonged in cemeteries, right?

Her eyes were cast to the sky, seeing nothing but a sheet of dull white. Most would call this weather dreary, but she found it rather pleasant. Definitely drinking-at-the-cemetery weather, she'd surmised when she got up this morning.

Rufus wasn't pleased about it, but he'd given in when she called in to take the morning off, after several attempts at bribery and blackmail that she still had pictures of him at the last Christmas party. It had almost worked, but just about everyone knew at this point that he'd 'accidentally' offered a ride in his limo to the girl he'd been drunkenly dancing with all night, the girl having ended up not being such a 'girl' after all. He was apparently the only one who couldn't tell that night, Reno and Rude nearly hurting themselves with trying not to laugh in their boss' face that his dancing partner had an Adam's apple even bigger than Rudo's. Even Elena had been a furious shade of red with trying not to burst into snickers.

The pictures had been Reno's idea. She was pretty sure that had she been anyone else, Rufus would have had her killed on the spot. Probably by Reno just to be a jerk about it. The president needed her, though, for reasons still unknown to anyone but her and the silent residents of the cemetery. That was how she'd managed to get out of work this morning. It was a serious card to play, but she'd had her reasons for coming, and she wasn't really in the mood to bargain.

Her eyes lowered from their high gaze, intending to take another swig from the bottle when a dark figure in the corner of her vision caught her attention. Her head rolled to the side from where it rested against the headstone and she blinked. This was the last person she'd expected to see. She lifted her head and gaped at the tall, straight stature of the man.

Long, slicked back ebony hair swayed gently in the wind, and sharp dark eyes focused on her as he made his silent approach. "Aerith," a smooth voice greeted, a puff of steam escaping with the words.

"Tseng," she returned, her voice edged with confusion. Her eyebows furrowed even more in surprise as the man in the tailored suit took a seat before her upon the grave, gracefully crossing his legs in a lotus position.

"It's been a long time."

She tilted her head, moss green eyes settled on him skeptically. She wasn't positive what he meant. He couldn't have been referring to the last time they'd seen each other. It had only been about three days since they'd passed in one of ShinRa's corridors. She opened her mouth. "I... um..."

Then she noticed what his own onyx gaze was fixed upon. She turned and looked down at the grave she was leaning against, and then understood.

"Yeah... it's been a while," she said softly, pushing herself to the side with one hand to get out of the Turk's view. She now sat with Tseng on one side of her, and Gray on the other, the bottle sitting in front of her crossed legs. She swallowed as she looked at the stone. Sometimes she forgot about that part of his life. She turned back to Tseng. "Did you know I was here?"

He nodded. "I overheard the president this morning."

Her body went rigid.

The well-trained Turk noticed immediately, his eyes finding hers for only a moment. "I already knew."

She blew out a breath that formed into steam upon contact with the air, her eyes lowering. "Could never really put anything past ya, could I?"

Tseng merely let his lips tug into a hint of a smirk as he returned his vision to the headstone, Aerith catching the motion with the corner of her eye. Her head lifted again and she followed his gaze.

"You came to see him? Or you came to see me?"

There was a pregnant pause before Tseng finally broke the silence. "Both."

"Why him?" She nodded once towards the grave.

"You forget he was once very important to us."

Unexpected anger flared in her jade eyes, but she swallowed down the venom that threatened to escape her tongue as she stared at the engravements on the stone. Gray might have been more important to her once than he'd ever been to anyone else. "I didn't forget."

"He nearly ended my life once. Yours, as well."

"Yes..." She had no idea where he was going with that, but her anger subsided. That was exactly why she wanted to know why he'd come.

"I never got the chance..."

Aerith waited with baited breath for him to finish, and when he didn't, she didn't pry. Tseng was not a man to let anger influence him, she knew that well enough. He was a Turk to the core when it came to his job, especially when it ended in death. He could turn his emotions off with the blink of an eye, and she'd witnessed it first hand several times. The malice she'd heard in his tone just now betrayed that, however, and though she had a good idea why, it frightened her none the less. He didn't like things unfinished. He was always meticulous and efficient that way, but something had spoiled his chances this time, and they both knew of the guilty party.

She bit her lip, falling back to her earlier curiosity of his visit. "Why me?"

"You forget we were friends."

"No," she said, shaking her head and facing the Turk again. The was no anger in her when she uttered the words this time. "I didn't forget."

A thoughtful look crossed his angular features. "Then I did."

Aerith let out an amused huff of air through her nose, a smirk on her lips. "If you can call executing orders for my abduction 'forgetting', then sure."

An uncharacteristic grin split over Tseng's face as he turned his gaze on her. Well, it was only uncharacteristic for those that knew him through ShinRa. "You always liked to hold grudges. You had everyone else fooled. Not me."

A chuckle escaped from within her chest and she lifted the bottle to her lips, eyes straying back to the grave as she took a swallow of the amber liquid. "Nn... you were always good at reading too far into people."

She didn't see the somber expression that melted away his smile. "And you were never great at reading far enough."

Her eyes dropped to the ground, the bottle lowering to the cold, dead grass with her gaze. "I was better than you gave me credit for, but perhaps you're right."

There was silence before he spoke in a low tone. "Why didn't you listen to me?"

The question wasn't completely unexpected, but she wasn't sure she'd hear it so soon. The muscles in her jaw tightened and a tiny vein appeared in her temple as she thought back on the last words he'd said to her, just days before Reno had found her in that church years ago. "Because I was a stupid kid, Tseng. Because I thought running was weak. I thought I could... fix everything." God, it sounded so stupid when she said it.

"You did, Aerith," he said carefully. "Just at the expense of yourself."

Green orbs peered into his endless black eyes. "Well, I'm here now, aren't I?"

He sighed and tilted his head in a reprimanding fashion. "You're still doing it, just for the other side this time."

She had to turn away before his eyes burned a hole through her. "Well, don't kid yourself into thinking that I'm doing it for anyone else's sake this time."

He dropped the subject and eyed the bottle in her hands with disapproval, pointing with a finger. "I'm sure that helps the process."

She deliberately took a swig, her eyes focused back on the grave. "Yep."

He shook his head. "I was being sarcastic."

"I know."

He barked a laugh then. "I think I'm the only person on the planet that thinks you really haven't changed much."

A grin crossed her lips and she turned to face him again. "Well, keep it to yourself, buddy."

His expression sobered and went blank. "Keep a lid on that laugh and we'll call it even."

Her eyes sparkled. "Oh no, I've got dirt on you now."

"You have no way to prove it," he stated calmly. "And I have so called 'dirt' on you."

"Yes, but people tend to believe me," she gloated with a grin. "I'm very persuasive."

Tseng sighed. "Don't remind me." He stood then, dusting off his suit with care.

She watched him with haunted eyes, the smile gone from her face. He'd said several things that had shaken her in the past few minutes, but shared a few moments of the friendship that had once existed between them as though nothing had ever changed. This man was an enigma. He always had been, and she had to admit she missed it. This was the first time they'd spoken outside of business in years.

"Maybe..." she began, but hesitated. She had her answer before she'd even gotten the question out by the regret written on his face. She expelled a long sigh. "I know."

"You surprise me, Aerith," he stated plainly, standing straight with his fingers laced together in front of him. He was a Turk again. "Some things _have_ changed about you. Your tastes, for example." He lifted a finger from where his hands were folded and gestured to her coat.

She looked down at the black coat quizzically.

"Then again," he continued, "you seem to have a personal theme with men in uniform."

Her head jerked back up and her eyes bore into him, her brow furrowed.

"I suspect Reno knows you have that?" he inquired casually.

Her lips twisted into a frown. He'd recognized the coat. _Oops_. It _was_ a little big on her, if only in length. She just let out a nervous laugh, knowing it was futile to defend herself. Tseng was paid to be observant, but was also not one to rat her out without damn good reason.

Tseng let the silence hang for a moment, his eyes looking back to the grave.

There it was again. Something that was far from emotionless, and she gave a shudder when he turned that dark gaze on her before he glanced back to the grave.

"You should go," he said. "It's going to snow momentarily, and that alcohol will only cause you to freeze to death."

His tone was authoritative and she instinctively nodded, pushing to her feet. Her own eyes sent another lingering look to the headstone, tracing over every letter.

Sephiroth.

She hadn't been the one to choose which name would be engraved, but it would have ended up the same. It was his name, his legacy, and she wouldn't deny him that. Gray was nothing to anyone but her, and he'd died long before Sephiroth did. She'd been witness to the demise of both. Her eyes drifted lower, to where she'd had 'Gray' etched in small letters toward the bottom. A favor from Rufus.

A throat cleared and she turned back towards Tseng, noticing that there was snow falling around them, brightly contrasted in the Wutai native's glossy black hair. He nodded once to her, then turned militantly on his heel and walked to the sleek black car he'd parked a fair distance away.

Aerith turned back to the grave, which was slowly collecting snow. She let a smile curl her lips, and she tipped the bottle, letting its contents sink into the ground, steam rising from the liquid when it made contact. "Drink up, boss."


	11. 047 Journey

047. Journey

Aerith felt a bit like Alice in Wonderland as her consciousness drifted from one plane to another. There was nothing tangible, just a blur of images and the residue of sepia-toned memories. Concepts, ideas, beliefs; all things that felt completely alien to her, though she could recall having been the host of such thoughts in another lifetime, the edges frayed and curled like an old photograph.

Another lifetime.

The idea seeped into her psyche as she swam through fragments of her existence, and her senses of hot and cold engaged in quiet battle, enveloping her in nothing but the occasional brushes of the tips of her sable hair against her skin.

What would be there for her when she returned? Warm embraces, bitter tears, shock and stasis; she didn't know what to expect. The state of her mind wasn't allowing her to expect much of anything. The faces that flashed before her in a tumble of colors and patterns offered nothing. Their lips moved but there was no sound outside of her rapid heartbeat, thundering in its state of living fear. The images turned black and then there was nothing, abandoning the Ancient with a dizzying case of vertigo.

She could swear she was falling, forces pulling at her with millions of tiny fingers clawing into her, through her, choking the very life that had been granted renewal out of her once again. Perhaps hell was her destiny, and calm acceptance washed over her.

But she wasn't falling.

Blue light seared into her closed eyelids, blinding her until she was forced to open her eyes, atrophied vision frantically fighting to register its surroundings.

Not falling, but… _rising_.

Her mouth opened to draw in its first breath.


	12. 049 Alive

049. Alive

(Part 3 of 3, after Journey and Drown. Happy birthday, Aerith! Heh.)

Aerith Gainsborough had to admit that pain was a welcome change. For having been dead for about three or four years, she couldn't remember which, she was still in pretty decent shape. It would have sucked if she'd woken up a mostly decomposed corpse. This walk was long, though, and her muscles were sore, her head aching from lack of sleep and sustenance going on three days now.

When she'd started, she was only half certain she was going in the right direction. When she found a boat at the edge of the continent, however, the small group of fishermen offered her a ride and she'd accepted, traveling for only about a day before reaching land. Admittedly, she preferred walking, though her temporary companions had offered some much needed interaction with other living humans, and there was no way she was going to swim the whole way.

She didn't really mind the way her thighs and calves ached as she forced herself along toward Midgar. It served as a pleasant reminder that she was very much alive, and once again very mortal. She looked down to watch her own feet meeting the ground with every step, marveling at the way the grass and gravel felt under her weight as she'd been doing every few minutes since she'd come from the Forgotten City.

They had docked near Kalm, and Aerith had gotten a new dress as soon as they'd touched land, thanks to her new fishermen friends, her pink one torn and abused from being in water for so long. The color, too… something just seemed wrong about it, as though it represented falsehoods that she no longer cared to participate in. She'd chosen black. She couldn't honestly say if it was because she was trying to make some sort of statement, or because she simply wanted to blend in a little better. She'd gotten black boots, too, having left her damaged brown ones back by the lake. She'd been barefoot the whole way, but it was okay with her. She wanted to watch the small scratches and abrasions heal.

She'd been much like a curious child, touching everything and wandering the town aimlessly, just admiring every hint of life along the streets. There were so many things she hadn't noticed before, even for having once been a self-proclaimed planet-loving person.

It seemed so absurd that she'd been that way once, a hypocrite in taking all of these small nuances for granted as everyone else did. The way the old, round streetlamps that stood only a foot or two above her let off a soft yellow light, like a string of low hanging harvest moons lining the streets, or the way she discovered that she sort of liked the smell of cigarette smoke as she watched a tall, handsome young man smoke outside of an old house, betraying her previous advocacy of anti-smoking. She liked the way it looked as a tiny puff of smoke formed when he'd take a drag just outside of his mouth, right before he inhaled it back without losing even a sliver of the toxins.

So much life she'd missed, so much fruition and pleasure she'd always talked herself out of for fear of the price she would pay in the end. But she'd paid it, hadn't she? She'd been killed before she'd even lived, and it pissed her off, both at the people responsible and at herself for letting her life slip through her fingers from the beginning.

She'd approached the man outside the house and watched him smoke intently, his steel grey eyes watching her in turn, probably because he thought she was crazy. When she asked to try, he just chuckled and passed the half-smoked cigarette to her.

It hurt. The sensation made her lungs feel tight and she'd coughed, handing the cigarette back to him with a self-deprecating smile. He'd laughed and took another drag, blowing smoke rings into the air, one perfect orb after another, and she was fascinated. She wanted to learn that, too.

She'd demanded the cigarette back and asked him how to do it. He had grinned and sat down on the wood planks of his porch, and offered her lessons in a soft voice as she tried to inhale the fumes without coughing.

Almost a full pack and a slight stomach ache later, she was exhaling smoke rings like pro. She'd thanked him for the lesson and took her leave, the sky darkening into an inky black, but not before she'd gotten a pack of cigarettes to practice with, when she felt a little better, of course, for the walk to Midgar.

It was midday by the time she approached the outskirts of the slums and she paused. This place held many memories for her, some good, but most unpleasant and surreal, as though these things hadn't really happened to her, but to some other pink-clad flower seller.

The thought of the flowers was what pushed her forward, and she walked slowly towards her old church, not really paying any attention to the other people that roamed the streets, though she probably should have. The slums weren't the greatest place for a girl to be walking around alone. It never stopped her before, however, so why should she stop now?

Upon reaching the door, she stared for a long time and sullenly tugged at her lower lip with her teeth. This church was part of someone else's life, and she didn't think she was quite ready to reenter it. She wanted to see her friends, her old stomping grounds, sure… but adjustments would have to be made, and she'd need to get herself accustomed to being here, being _alive_ again.

She had no idea how receptive everyone she used to know would be to her reappearance. She could be welcomed with open arms, or she could be shunned completely. Maybe they wouldn't believe it was really her. Maybe someone would want her dead.

Glancing down, she noticed her hands were trembling, and she swallowed. She'd been mistreating her body quite a lot since she'd come from the lake, and knew she'd have to take it easy until she was up to her old shape. She would need a place to stay.

Grazing over the church door with weary eyes, she shook her head. This wasn't the place for her. Not yet. It seemed like a cop out for some reason, like she was trying to hide under a defense mechanism, a security blanket. This place had been a sanctuary, even as violated as it had been in the past, and she wasn't here to cower and live out the rest of her existence in fear.

Fear was something she wanted to be without completely, and right then she made it her goal. So what was it that she'd feared the most?

Her head turned and she caught sight of the ShinRa building in the distance. It was still being reconstructed, as was most of the city, though a fair portion of it was sufficiently completed.

She smirked. Those were the very people she'd run from time and again, the former powerhouse under President Shinra, now being run by Rufus and his entourage. She'd known from her time in the lifestream that their priorities and agenda had changed, but she couldn't help but wonder just how much. Did anyone really change that much?

One look down at herself, a forgotten cigarette between her fingers that rested beside her black attire, and she chuckled. Maybe.

Well, either way, she couldn't think of anywhere better to find shelter, protection until she was back up to speed with her unpracticed skills, perhaps some help in getting her life started. She wasn't stupid enough to think that it wouldn't be that easy, however. Truly, she couldn't convince herself that Rufus Shinra wasn't still a business man to the core. Exchanges would have to be made. She'd live with that. With her back straight, she made her way through the streets.

The walk was shorter than she remembered. Or maybe the dimensions of the city had changed. She didn't bother to dwell. Lighting a fresh cigarette, she stood before the building, looking up at its height, eyeing the glass elevator as it drifted up and down between floors a few times.

She took a long pull on the cigarette, unaffected as though she'd been smoking her whole life, and trudged forward through the doors.

Immediately one guard perked up, noticing the smell of smoke before anything else, and was about to open his mouth to demand it be extinguished until he saw her face. His mouth just hung open.

Of course everyone knew who she was. AVALANCHE, and what they had done in the Meteor crisis and subsequent events, was widely circulated news, and she'd been most heavily recognized after her death.

Aerith just offered an amused smirk and continued toward the elevator, refusing to back down. She noted the guard moved to stop her but she just held up a hand as she punched the elevator button with her other hand. "Tell the prez I'm comin' to see him."

He just blinked.

_What competent security_, she thought.

She laughed and stepped into the elevator as the pristinely spotless doors opened. A few stops were made until she got a feel for the layout, and when she finally narrowed down where the president would be located, she was almost through the cigarette.

The doors slid open again and she stepped out into an aisle, a few cubicles lined up on either side, and offices lining the walls, some open, some closed. Either there was no lock on this level, or she'd been granted access from someone that knew she was here. Perhaps the guard, but she doubted he'd risk his job so willingly. Maybe he'd delivered her message.

She drew in a breath and spotted the large, closed door at the end, only assuming that was where Rufus resided.

"Holy fuck!" she heard to her left and she turned to see a familiar redhead looking at her quizzically, evidently having just come from his office. "Living fuckin' _dead_ girl."

Ah, Reno. She remembered him and that mouth of his quite well.

She smirked. "That living fuckin' dead girl has a name."

He stared at her, watching as she brought a mostly smoked cigarette to her lips and take a steady drag, as though not believing exactly what he was hearing and seeing.

And then he laughed with nothing short of genuine and lighthearted amusement, sea green eyes glimmering.

It was then she decided she liked using the word 'fuck'.


	13. 052 Force

052. Force

Reno wasn't one to dwell on anything for too long, mostly out of the impending burden of dulling novelty, much like a worn out and colorless toy. Most women in his life came and then went soon after, usually because he'd grown uninterested and bored of them.

Sometimes there were other reasons for such evasion of heavy thought, however, things that fell the opposite way. Pleasures he never got tired of. That was something else, though, that he never dared think on for more than a few fleeting seconds.

Nothing could make him reveal those thoughts short of seeing Aerith on her deathbed – _maybe_, but he was pretty sure that wouldn't happen anytime soon, anyway.

Teasing her about it was fun, to a level that it could probably be considered cruel, but the way she narrowed her eyes and furrowed her tawny eyebrows, blood red lips curling into a snarl, and the occasions when she'd go so far as to stick her tongue out at him, made it all worth it. The expressions only got better every time he'd laugh at it or crack some perverted joke in reply.

Aerith had definitely changed since her inexplicable return, and for the first few months, she'd consistently surprised him with just how much. The drinking and smoking made him take a liking to her automatically, her lips frequently drawing his attention with those actions, and he'd begun to notice just how finely shaped they were, and the way they moved when she spoke, often startling and impressing him at the same time with a barrage of bad language or unabashed sexual innuendos. The color was almost perpetually a violent red, and he could become mesmerized if he let himself when she'd exhale a fluid stream of bluish smoke, or when her small pink tongue would slip out to moisten that perfect pout.

And then they'd finally slept together. He'd picked up on hints of timidity in her when she was around him, but her responses and desperation when he'd fucked her for the first time - and he'd done so mercilessly, almost brutally - revealed no inhibitions or reservations, and instead he saw passion and recklessness in those beautifully strained moans and expressions. He'd made her scream his name, and he knew, mere moments after collapsing onto her in a panting heap, he was going to want more of her.

He'd been right. It didn't stop there. They began seeing more of each other, both making any excuses they could to have an hour or two alone together whenever they got the opportunity, and her fiercely lascivious antics in the bedroom, or against a wall… or wherever they ended up in their mutual urgency, was causing a profound addiction for her deep within him.

Sex wasn't the only thing, though. Often, there were nights when Aerith would be quiet and withdrawn from a rough day, or he was too exhausted or irritable over something, that they would simply sit together and just talk. Dark, soul-baring conversations would waver to playful banter and back again, and never once did it get awkward or uncomfortable. They had respect for each other, and their similar nature was like a safety net; there was just comfort, no need for explanations or preemptive apologies. A 'No disclaimers required' kind of rapport. They knew each other well because they knew themselves so well. Not that it was like either of them to feel any remorse for they way they lived their lives.

They both seemed keenly aware, however, that the only thing that never came up was talk of the feelings that had been thickening the tension around them slowly through the duration of their discreet relationship. It was undeniable that they were more than fuck buddies. 'Friends' was the closest thing to it, and though they were unquestionably friends, he'd be an idiot not to acknowledge the protective tendencies he'd developed for her, as well as the way she'd become softer and more nurturing toward him. He shrugged it off, though. What was the sense in trying to label these things? Nothing needed to change. He was happy the way things were.

Reno had learned early on that he loved it when she was drunk. Several months into their aptly dubbed 'non-relationship', she'd gotten so trashed that he'd been able to prod her into revealing those previously unnamed feelings, and he had been sure to gloat in such a way that he knew would get those ever amusing expressions and curse words out of her.

Then she'd started asking him about his own feelings, much to his chagrin. Things that he refused to think about, and that he was even less likely to share with her.

Why was that?

He couldn't help but think that she liked it that way, that deep down she didn't really want to know what he thought about her. She wasn't a conventional woman by any means; she didn't swoon and thrive on typical romantic bullshit like most chicks did, and that was something he kind of liked about her. She'd apparently not gotten the memo at birth about females inherently adoring diamonds and flowers, and was instead ecstatic over good sex, a glass of whiskey, having her cigarette lit for her, or having a wickedly sharp object in her hand.

But then she definitely did have her share in feminine antics. She always smirked - Aerith's chosen method of displaying happiness - when he'd comment about being content with her, or when he'd kiss her forehead after a vigorous fuck. She was appreciative of the tenderness he offered from time to time, and he had no qualms with giving it in moderation.

No matter what, though, he couldn't force himself to say anything beyond casually mentioning that he cared for her. It was enough, wasn't it? She never seemed to have any complaints, she'd never make him say anything, even despite her simple teasing and playfully dramatic frustration that he was in denial about his feelings.

He would just continue to wait and assume, day after day, that she'd soon figure out _why_ he wouldn't share them, what it could potentially cost him, and _that_ spoke louder than any words that could ever fall from his lips.


	14. 055 Sore

055. Sore

The tile on the bathroom floor was cold, but Aerith was used to it. How many times had she been hung over on this very floor? She suspected without much thought that those occurrences would be coming more frequently, in light of the circumstances.

The misery wouldn't relent, and she was getting damned tired of it. There was no reason she should have been this upset. It was all for the best. It was one loss that amounted to preventing an even more valuable loss. It was the lesser of two evils, or so the saying went.

God, but she hadn't known. She hadn't been the least bit aware until it was ending. If she had known… well, would anything have been different?

She closed her eyes against a swell of guilt and tightness in her throat that she couldn't identify the source of. She leaned back against the wall, legs stretched before her and crossed at the ankles. She almost laughed.

For about one minute she had been the mother of someone created from a twisted combination of lust, love, and a sick joke. In that one minute, she'd known it was ending before it had begun, had never had even a second longer to consider the idea.

But she _had_ considered it. It wasn't practical; it would ruin everything, so why did she feel such remorse for the life that had been snuffed out under her nose?

It had happened the day before. She was fine, lying on the table in the ShinRa lab, and then she was on her knees on the floor, doubled over in blinding pain. There was blood. Less than she had expected, really, but the sum was nothing to scoff at. The doctors had to have known the whole time. Why didn't they say anything? Did they assume she knew already? If they did, how could they have continued with her as they had been, knowing the risk involved? They should have asked her.

The only thing they did when they realized what had happened was offer insincere condolences while injecting her with a tranquilizer. When she asked how far along she'd been, they merely replied with a terse "six weeks". She supposed then that they hadn't mentioned it in hopes that this would happen; she was too valuable to lose for another several months.

She had to tell Reno. He deserved that, didn't he? She knew she'd still be running a risk, even though any responsibility was now null and void. He'd get scared, even though it was over, and he'd possibly leave her out of fear that it could happen again. Well, she wasn't going to let it. It was true, this was the second time in her life she'd messed up so badly, and this time seemed exponentially worse in retrospect. The reason why was glaringly obvious, but she pushed it down and out of sight.

* * *

The next day found her in his apartment, staring down at him as though he might disappear before her very eyes. He'd probably noticed by then, but his vision remained intent on the television, his body reclining on the couch, his head in the lap of his brunette mistress, crimson ponytail sprawled across her thighs as she toyed with it tensely.

"What's wrong, darlin'?" he finally asked, reaching up to nudge her leg with a finger.

The floodgates opened and the words came in a rush, and by the time she was done, he was upright beside her, his aquamarine eyes focused on her. The expression on his face was unreadable, carefully blank, and Aerith felt her chest tighten.

" Reno … I…" she whispered, her gaze lowering to avoid his stare. She… what? She had no idea what she should have said right then. Nothing changed the facts. There wasn't any doubt that he was the other responsible party, and neither of them even needed to speak of it.

There was no noise for several more moments, and Aerith couldn't take it anymore. She wasn't sure if she should leave, she wasn't sure of _anything_ right then. She swallowed and made to get up. Might as well beat him to it, she figured.

He stopped her, his strong, slender hand grasping her wrist before she'd even moved an inch, as if knowing she intended to rise. She stared at his hand around her for a long moment before she gathered the courage to bring her eyes back to his. Then quiet hell broke loose.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," she said, an unexpected sob breaking her words. How many times had he must have heard women play this card with him? _No better than a typical whore. _

She caught movement in his throat as he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her head.

He must have hated this, but she made no effort to keep the tears at bay. It didn't happen often, less so in front of others, and never in front of him.

"I'm sorry," she muttered again, her words muffled by his chest. She didn't know what she was apologizing for suddenly. There seemed to be a million reasons. She hoped maybe he could figure it out for her.

"Shh," she heard in her ear. "I'm not leavin', babe."

His words made her want to cry harder, relieved that he'd knowingly quelled one of her biggest fears, but they also made her want to compose herself and get a drink for them both in some sort of warped celebration of the evasion of potential disaster. It was confusing to say the least, and she just became quiet. It seemed the easiest.


	15. 056 Beg

056. Beg

(Smut warning!)

"So tense… you know better."

Aerith pursed her lips and stifled a groan, raising her hips slightly off of the desk to aid him in removing her undergarments. "Well... fix it."

"I plan on doin' that, my dear." Reno muttered, lowering his eyes to her body, watching his movements with the utmost care. He tugged the garment downwards, past her ankles and fully off her own body. The dress was already laid out beneath her, unbuttoned and exposing her in all her glory. His jacket was soon shrugged off, followed by his belt, and it didn't take long until he was only in his own undergarments; silk boxers.

Aerith grinned as she watched him undress, stretching her arms up past her head to lie limply on the wood surface of the desk.

A smirk played along his features, his hand lingering forth along her inner thigh, lightly touching the sensitive flesh of her slick petals. She closed her eyes and rested her head back on the desk, then jerking at the touch of his fingers. "Oh dear god..."

He chuckled lightly from her reaction, his eyes traveling over her form once more. Spreading the growing warmth of her passion with skilled fingers, he placed his thumb along the clit itself and began to perform small rotations of pressure. His teeth grazed over the bottom area of his lip, his eyes transfixed on his work once more.

She shivered and moaned at his ministrations, the muscles in her thighs rapidly tensing. Her hands still stretched back above her head, she gripped the edge of the desk.

Reno watched her actions in secret glee, although the expression on his face remained stoic. His thumb would apply more pressure until the very core of her being would be pressed up against her pubic bone. Finally, he pulled back his thumb only to lower his head between her legs. He gave the knob a small flick with his tongue, tasting her as his teal eyes trailed back up to her face. "Mmm… sweet as always… gonna miss that."

His tongue sent her into fits of muscles spasms and a pleased whimper, and she looked down at him, meeting his eyes. Her voice was pleading, " Reno ..."

"Ah ah..." he reprimanded with a grin. "You know you like it." He kissed her lightly along her prominent hipbones, a smirk arising through his features as he placed himself once again up. He hovered over her, feeling the warmth that she radiated. Placements of kisses were arranged along the valley of her breasts, until he took the left peak between his teeth, nibbling with exquisite control.

She moaned, the skin hardening instantly, and her eyes fluttered closed. Her hands tightened their grip on the desk, her knuckles undoubtedly white at that point, until she finally released it and brought her hands back down to weave through his hair once again. He'd been torturing her for what must have been almost an hour. That's what it felt like, anyhow. She was leaving soon, and he was obviously trying to savor his time with her. As much as she appreciated the notion, she was becoming desperate. She tried again. " Reno …"

He released the nipple from his mouth, giving it a playful lick before advancing all the more along her body. His hands would move to her face, grasping her chin and turning her head to him. Choosing to ignore her pleading, he leaned downwards, placing a firm yet tender kiss on her lips. He could feel the mere warmth of her as he settled between her own legs, his boxers having been removed beyond her notice, but he refused to give in just yet, no matter how much his body protested.

She broke long enough from his kiss to whimper his name again, her hips lifting in urgency for him to take her already. She'd had enough.

"You really want me that bad, eh?" he inquired when she parted from the kiss. It wasn't hard to hear his name between her small whimpers. A grin spread over his face, loving the fact that he was wanted... that he was _needed_. Long fingers sprawled under her face, thumb trailing along her jaw line.

Her voice was broken down into a harsh whisper. "Oh, god… yes."

Her delicate hands untangled themselves from his scarlet hair and moved down to scratch gently at his hips, desperately wanting to feel him inside of her.

That cocky smile of his broadened upon hearing her desperate vocals. He lifted his body up from her. "And what if I don't comply?" He liked teasing, it was just too good to pass up at his point. She was his victim as of right now, not so much the other way around. No doubt he had his own urges that were building with force along his veins, but still. This was fun.

A look of agony crossed Aerith's pretty face, and she groaned, but a mischievous smirk crept back to her lips. "Did you forget that I carry a gun?"

A red eyebrow lifted, a sneer settling along his face. "Hn… I believe you did. You also threatened me with a knife at some point. But really, if you kill me... who's gonna fuck you?"

Damn. He had her there. Of course, it wouldn't be all that difficult to find someone else to satisfy her needs, but the fact is, she was pretty sure no one knew her body and what she liked as well as this Turk did, and her only craving at that moment was for him. She couldn't believe she would resort to this, but it was that or tackle him. She was aching at this point. "... Reno ... please?"

"Please?" He snickered softly at her request, her pleads for him to release her from the sexual tension that spread through her body. His hand pressed along her chest, making sure her body was firmly against the table. He then let his arousal graze over her moist center, loitering at the entrance. "Mm… try one more time."

"Please," she moaned, arching her hips in an attempt to ease him inside of her.

His head tilted, as if debating. Then, without warning, he entered her, but slowly. Instead of inching all the way in, he left himself half out and stopped moving. Aerith damn near tore him to pieces.

A smirk spread along his features, pulling out once more. Ah, teasing her in another form now. He loved it.

" Reno," she groaned, clenching her eyes shut, both in exquisite torment and partially in shame. He was driving her fucking crazy. "God damn it... _please_..."

"Hn..." he said as if merely pondering the situation himself. He entered her fully then, forcing his way through the constricted muscle of her walls. He pushed forward until he was deep enough inside her.

Aerith hissed in reply, the sound painfully pleasured as her eyes fluttered open again.

"Mmm..." he hummed, a ripple of pleasure sending waves throughout his body. He closed his eyes briefly before gradually falling into a pattern of thrusts. "Better…?"

"Oh god..." she mumbled, unsure how much of it was even coherent. "Much... better..." She found herself fumbling to grasp the edge of the desk again, and she began to bring her legs up, trying desperately to allow him deeper penetration.

His teeth grazed his bottom lip when she brought her legs up. It allowed deeper penetration by all means, and he had to part his lips once more in order to catch his breath. His arms slid upwards, grasping her shoulders and pulling her up towards him. He brought her legs up to rest over his shoulders, allowing even deeper advantage over her, and Aerith allowed him to move her, weigh now resting on her elbows. Flesh against flesh was heard when his pace quickened all the more, low moans escaping his own lips.

The angle in which he was now thrusting into her was bringing her quickly to the edge, and she could feel the familiar tightening of muscles in her lower abdomen. "Oh fuck... just like that..."

His face would contort to that of an expression of pure delight, then deviousness as his thrusts slowed down to a tedious and even pace. "Uh uh… not until I tell you."

"Reno," she moaned desperately, her fingernails clawing into the desk and hopelessly marring the wood.

He could feel that pressure build up as well, pools of pleasure settling along his lower torso until gradually filling along the tip of his rigid muscle, but he controlled himself with practiced force. Grunts were escaping as he kept the slow pace up, listening delightedly to her frustrated words that drove him all the more. He could hear the gentle slap of flesh against flesh as he continued thrusting into her.

His hands were along her sides, sliding down towards her hipbone region and pulling her more against him. He was keeping her there, right at the edge of release, and the clench she gave around him was delicious. "Almost," he assured her breathlessly, smirking. He was waiting to hear it once more.

"Fuck," Aerith growled, a flurry of emotion forming the expletive. She was frustrated, but she couldn't deny that the torture was sweet, and she knew when he finally let her release it was going to be intense and earth shattering. "Please, _please_…"

"Good girl," he whispered with a slight grin, finally increasing his pace, the sounds of his flesh on hers lifting in volume. He couldn't contain his own moan at the way she tightened even more. "That's it… now you can come for me."

The sounds of his flesh slapping hers, the words and the grunts coming from his throat, his hands pulling her into him drove her completely into oblivion as a powerful orgasm tore through her. She screamed his name, her body jerking and shuddering, muscles contracting hard.

He could feel the contractions well, a smirk remaining on his lips. His thrusts became faster, until tiny spasm upon tiny spasm blurred into one complete, clenching paroxysm. He parted his lips and sent out a rough groan. Contractions pulsed through his body as a ripple of earthly pleasure ran along his very being and he spilled into her.

He collapsed atop her body, his arms lingering along her sides, his chest rising and falling rapidly as her legs slipped from his shoulders and hung down off of the desk lazily.

Her arms wrapped themselves around him, her breath short and raspy. "Holy fuck, Reno ..."

He pressed his forehead to her chest, relishing in the aftermaths of his small spasms along his still rigid muscle. He cantered out a smile, kissing her chest before placing his chin along it. A sigh slipped from his lips, eyelids cast over his aquamarine hues lazily at he looked at her blissful and forgiving expression. "Hnn."


	16. 058 Rise

058. Rise

Four years, or somewhere in that general area, it had been since she'd last seen them; the people that she had once called friends, the people that had mourned her death, some longer than others, and the people that were now waiting in Tifa's bar, Seventh Heaven. For what, none of them knew. 

Aerith stared at the door from about a hundred feet away, purposefully obscured from view by the shadow of a building across the street. The air was chilly, and she hugged herself to keep goosebumps from forming when a gust of wind would rip past.

She would have liked to be able to pass this off as someone else's idea. "Reno made me do it!" "Rufus said it would be good for business to schmooze with old rivals!" She snorted at the thought. Yeah, that would fly over really well with the rest of them. 

No, this was her idea, as awkward as she felt about it. 

She had managed to maintain a low profile for a few months, but knew it was just a matter of time before word of her presence got around. Some of the lower level ShinRa personnel had begun to notice her, despite the precautions she took to enter the building undetected by any means necessary, but she'd known it would happen at some point, and they weren't paid quite well enough to be motivated to keep their mouths shut. The reforming company was still fairly low in numbers, at least in comparison to its former size, and it wasn't hard to start memorizing faces and schedules. 

She owed her friends this, at least. To find out firsthand instead of through a series of ugly rumors, true as some of them may be. Partially, it was to save face. It was going to be nothing but a dirty, blatant deception, but she was in a rough spot and she was going to do what she had to do to protect herself this time around. Even if it was from old friends.

It wasn't that AVALANCHE was still in a heated war with ShinRa. Those days seemed to have passed, and some were even civil to each other. She knew that Reno socialized with a few of them on occasion, primarily the females, and as far as she knew, they'd formed something of a friendship themselves. She didn't really know more details beyond that. She'd drink with the guy, even enjoy his company, but she didn't want to know if he was sleeping with her former friends. Whether it was mere discomfort at learning such personal things about a coworker – which she already knew was a bullshit excuse – or if it was that she'd been developing and then quickly denying a growing attraction to the redhead, she wasn't sure. 

In spite of the newly budding civility between the two former groups of rivals, she knew that there were still old, buried grudges, and she would already be putting them in enough shock with her return all on its own. 

"Shit," she breathed shakily, watching as Cloud pulled up on his motorcycle and stepped into the bar, just as bewildered an expression on his face as everyone else that had already entered. Some of them had carried the anonymous letters in hand, some of them didn't, but they were all there, just as she had hoped and dreaded all in the same breath. 

It was time to go in.

Taking slow steps, one foot in front of the other, she advanced toward the bar, half hoping that they would spot her through the windows before she got there so that she could miss the first few seconds of shock. But then part of her wanted to see it for herself, some bizarre guilty pleasure of hers to be the source of a sick surprise. 

Two men approached the door before her, but just as soon turned and walked away, advising her that the bar was closed for the evening, as per the sign on the door. She hadn't noticed it from her previous vantage point. They had honored her request. 

Merely nodding to the men, she continued, paying no mind to the way they stared like she was out of her mind for not even slowing her pace. Not that it could slow much more without completely stopping. 

It wasn't slow enough. She was there, her eyes were a foot from the sign, scrawled in Tifa's feminine print, that the bar was closed for the evening, and sorry for the inconvenience. She wondered how much business she was losing over this, and felt a brief stab of guilt. She'd closed the bar for this, not even knowing what for. The girl was always a little naïve, but Aerith had no room to talk. She was grateful for it tonight; there was no other way this could have been done.

Her hand reached out to the brass handle on the door, but she quickly drew it back. It was too late to back out, she knew, but she needed just another minute. With trembling fingers, stiff from the biting cold, she drew a cigarette from the pocket of her worn scarlet jacket, then the lighter; a candy apple red Zippo. She lit the stick swiftly, taking a long and deliberate pull before drawing it away. It was just another excuse to procrastinate.

Filter between her pale fingers, the cropped fingers of her lace gloves doing little to warm her, she grasped the freezing handle of the door and pulled it open, emerald eyes downcast as she stepped inside, but her head remained upright in a defiant manner. 

There was an instant flurry of sound, all registered before her eyes could even slide up to take in her surroundings. A small chorus of gasps, a broken glass, a choking cough as someone failed to swallow whatever they were drinking, and the grating sound of wood chairs jerking against a wood floor. 

Aerith swallowed. Well, she'd wanted shock. It was all there, clear in the faces of every one of them. 

Directly before her, Tifa stood behind the bar with wide eyes, a shaking hand threatening to drop the bottle she held, tilted slightly as though she'd been pouring a drink. Nanaki was curled under the bar, his eyes narrowed and his ears perked high. Cait Sith was nowhere to be found, but Reeve was there, perched on a barstool, his expression merely sympathetic, but attempting false surprise. Of course; he must have known about her. Yuffie sat on top of the bar, the glass of whatever she'd been drinking shattered on the floor below, but her hand still molded to the shape of it, and her large eyes glistening with tears and disbelief. 

Cid and Barret sat at a table to the left in front of the bar, Cid trying to catch his breath after nearly choking on what looked like a glass of whiskey, but his eyes remaining on her with amazement. It looked like he was crying, but it was probably from the lack of oxygen. Barret just stared with his mouth hanging open and his thick brows furrowed. 

Vincent was standing near the end of the bar, shrouded in shadows, but bewilderment evident in his glowing eyes of crimson, even in spite of efforts to remain stoic. 

Then there was Cloud. He stood merely a few feet away to her right, his face edged with shock, but there was unmistakable fury written in his eyes. 

Those few seconds dragged on like decades, but finally, she broke the silence, determined to do it before anyone else did. 

Forcing a smirk to her lips, she cleared her throat… and attempted lame humor. "Relax guys. You look like someone kicked your dog." 

Thirty four minutes, what probably amounted to two gallons of tears, four harsh – but loving – lectures, and only two feet inside the door, the initial state of shock died down to be replaced by the next state; this time involving a degree of celebration and a lot of booze. 

Aerith was okay with this. She'd managed to avoid the obvious questions so far, and hoped that the imbibing of alcohol would buy her even more time. She was sitting finally, smoking another cigarette which earned befuddled looks from her other table companions, Yuffie, Tifa, and Cloud. The others were seated close by, forming a jagged ring around her and the chatter increased in volume with every consumed drop of liquor. 

"Where did you pick up smoking, Aerith?" Tifa asked with a twinge of amusement. 

"Kalm," Aerith replied in an uncertain voice, throwing back the contents her second glass of whiskey. She didn't even wince slightly at the searing sensation down her esophagus, months of drinking with Reno having trained her well, and then continued with a shrug. "I, uh… saw someone blow smoke rings and I wanted to learn how." 

She was surprised that she'd earned a laugh from the group. She hadn't really thought it was funny, but had simply been trying to avoid more specific, primarily more philosophical answers. A chuckled emerged from her, however, and she shook her head. "Death kinda… changes a person." 

Another laugh was awarded around her, but this time it was less heartfelt, possibly forced, the tail of the sound laced with introspection. It was an odd statement, and she hadn't really meant to say it out loud, but her tolerance for alcohol was still somewhat on the lightweight side. She vaguely wondered where the phrase came from, as it seemed to have drifted from her lips without even consulting her mind first. 

"We can see that," she heard. She turned to the source of the deep voice and found Vincent, still lingering slightly further away than the others, but he'd at least taken a seat within conversational distance from the group. "I've had a bit of a hand in that myself." 

Aerith's head tilted to the side and nodded after a moment. The rest of the group became quiet, and she was silently thankful that he'd managed to avert more questions of her strange behavior away from her. Everyone knew of his past, and of the distinct difference his 'death', if thirty years in confined stasis could be called that, had made in comparison to his life as a Turk. 

She eyed him quizzically, wondering if his help was intentional. He just lowered his gaze and she heard a small chuckle. 

"So are you staying at your old church?" Yuffie asked, sipping at whatever fruity cocktail Tifa had made for her and propping her feet up on the table with a thump. 

Of course they wouldn't ask about her house. She'd been by once to see it in shambles, and Elmyra nowhere to be found. She'd managed to track her down with the help of ShinRa's records and tracking methods, but she had yet to build the courage for that one. 

"No," Cloud and Tifa both answered for her, Cloud's blue eyes intent on Aerith while Tifa's fell to the glass in her hand. Cloud cleared his throat and spoke again. "She's not staying there." 

Aerith didn't give the answer much thought as she took a drag from the cigarette, knowing well that he visited the place often and she was glad that she hadn't decided to enter it when she'd arrived months before. Tifa probably knew simply by Cloud's perpetual absence. Then she realized she'd have to answer another, less desirable question. _Crap_.

"Well, where are you staying?" the young ninja inquired with concern. She was probably planning to offer her a place in Wutai. Talk about a long commute. 

_Damn it._ She'd been looking for a place for a while, but in the meantime she'd been staying at the 'dorms' in ShinRa Co, and occasionally on Reno's couch. He was a gentleman, surprisingly, never failing to offer his bed to her, but she always refused adamantly, partly wondering with a confusing mixture of nervousness, fear, and secret hope if he was proposing he be in it at the same time. _You slut_. 

"With a friend," she said simply, wincing inwardly at the barrage of questions that would come with that one, too. 

She saw a few eyebrows rise, and she only shrugged.

"You have friends?" Cid asked gruffly. 

Aerith twisted her lips and gave him a look. "Yes, I have friends, old man." 

The name earned her a sharply lifted eyebrow, and he huffed. "I ain't that old, zombie girl. And I sure don't remember you havin' any other livin' friends. 'Less you brought more dead people back with you." 

"No. However," she began carefully, smirking at his joke, "I made a friend when I came back." It wasn't a lie, exactly. She'd known them, sure, but they hadn't been on good terms by any means with the exception of Tseng. 

She could have kicked herself when the next question came. 

"Well, jus' how long you been back?" Barret asked skeptically. 

"A few weeks." The lie came with ease, and the old Aerith wanted to shudder. This one, though, was without remorse and her will was steel in comparison to that of the pink clad flower girl. It was self-preservation. 

"A few weeks?" Cloud growled. "And you waited this long to tell us?" 

His reaction made her morbidly curious to see how they'd take the news that she'd really been back for almost half a year. She resisted the urge, however.

"I needed time," she said simply. "It's been kind of a confusing experience for me, too, ya know. I don't really know why I'm here, but… I am." 

Chatter flared up around her, an array of theories for why she'd returned, and Aerith suddenly felt like she was moving in slow motion. She topped off her glass from the bottle that Tifa had been kind enough to place on the table, and she downed it steadily. She was apparently the only one that wasn't really concerned with having some purpose in being there.

She heard utterances, her friends wondering why she was drinking so much, more questions of with whom she was staying and what she'd been up to since she came back, observances that she didn't have a speck of pink anywhere on her, information that her flowers were still alive and well if she wanted to go see them. 

She just drank. 

"Are you holding up alright?" she heard murmered to her left, and she turned to see Reeve's kind face.

"Yeah," she breathed, laughing softly as she put down the glass. "Just… thirsty." _And feeling a little underwater, ironically._

Reeve just nodded and smirked knowingly. 

"Guess you know?" she asked, leaning back in her chair and propping her knee against the edge of the table.

"Since the day you showed up," he replied plainly, his eyes turning to the others to ensure that no one else was paying attention. Most of them were chattering to each other, offering sporadic smiles to their previously deceased friend. "I understand, Aerith. I doubt they'd take too kindly. Particularly that one." 

She followed the slight nod of his head toward Tifa, the bartender now standing several feet away and muttering under her breath to an exasperated Cloud. 

"Tifa?" she asked, turning back to Reeve.

He nodded, a cigarette now between his lips as he searched himself for a lighter. "She's still… leery of our intentions." 

The strain in his voice told her that Tifa was a little more than leery. Sliding her slender fingers into her pocket, she drew her red Zippo, smoothly flicking it open and igniting the device. Reeve smiled graciously and leaned forward, placing the tip of the cigarette to the flame. "Didn't know you smoked, Reeve." 

He quirked an eyebrow at the question being directed toward _him_ out of _her_ mouth, but chose to reply anyway. "Working with a man like him is… stressful." His tone implied a degree of the kind of intimacy that suggested she would know that all too well.

She did, a laugh spilling over as she fished in her pocket for her own cigarette. "Yeah. Stressful. You've got a real knack for understatement, you know that?" 

"So I've been informed," he said casually, a warm smile on his lips. She was pretty sure someone had screamed it in frustration at some point, rather than 'informed' him.

She opened her mouth to comment when the shrill, tinny sound of Wutaian music cut her off, and Yuffie leapt from her chair with a whoop. She ripped her small PHS from her pocket and immediately began rattling into the phone. "Omigod, you're not gonna believe who's back…"

Aerith tuned out the rest and turned back to find Reeve standing and bidding her goodnight with a nod. She merely offered a half smile in return, and lifted her glass in a departing greeting as he slipped out the door. 

She let her gaze linger back to Tifa, and she observed quietly. Her body language suggested that she was in a heated argument with Cloud, but was trying desperately to keep her calm about her. Aerith couldn't help but wonder if she was the instigator, or if Cloud had simply been putting her through hell the last few years. Probably a little of both. 

Cid and Barret had resorted to entertaining themselves with a card game, and somehow managed to convince Vincent to join in. He didn't appear pleased, however, but he tried his best to remain cordial. She wondered why he hadn't left already. They had never been particularly close. 

Nanaki was still curled under the bar, but his feline eyes were fixed on her, and she realized that his keen ears had probably picked up her whole conversation with Reeve. At meeting her eyes, he gracefully uncoiled himself and got to his feet, prancing over. No doubt he could sense her sudden tension. Hell, he could probably smell Reno's scent on her, as she'd crashed on his couch the night before. 

"You smell like a Turk," he stated in a clipped voice, quiet enough to avoid gaining the attention of the others.

_Yep_. She tilted her head down at him. "Thanks, Red. You smell like cat food." 

He snorted and nudged her leg with his nose. He meant no harm, she knew. They'd always been friends since their near breeding accident. 

"So, you're not gonna… rat me out, are ya?" she snickered.

"I see death also gives one an unfortunate penchant for abominable puns," he deadpanned. 

She grinned. The humor was answer enough. "Good to see ya, Red."

He merely gave her another affectionate nudge. 

His friendly response left her fairly certain then that she'd gotten away with it all and the shock was slowly wearing off. That meant fewer questions, and she was damn happy about that. 

She eyed Tifa, who was now washing dishes out furiously, and then Cloud was sitting on the other side of the room, his eyes boring into her. 

She'd tell them both soon enough, if the occasion ever called for it, but for now, she just wanted to drink in her relief that it was all done with and procrastinate a little more on the inevitable future. 

She turned to the three poker playing men, spotting Vincent also watching her, and she boldly gave him a wink just to see his response.

He quickly looked back to his hand of cards and she chuckled. 

It was all going to be just fine.


	17. 063 Coercion

063. Coercion

(Mildish smut warning!)

The president probably hadn't been laid in weeks. Every day that passed made him exponentially more sour, and by the second week of his less than savory behavior, the Turks had begun a pool on when the misery would end. Today most certainly wasn't it, and Aerith was out two hundred gil.

Most days, she liked to avoid all thoughts of death at the hands of Reno, the short tempered redhead having a reputation about as clean and unscathed as a hooker with crabs. Today was one of those rare exceptions, when death seemed a nice, sleepy luxury afforded only to the lucky bastards six feet below in Midgar's cemetery, and Reno was probably just irritated enough to accommodate her.

The weather was hot, sunny, and penetrating, the brunette's head pounding and pressured with a vise-like grip. Not only was Rufus being a shithead, he was being a spiteful shithead, exorcising his frustrations on the poor schmucks that worked for him in retribution for whomever had dared leave his libido unmaintained, and assigning exorbitant amounts of fieldwork. A brief thought passed of giving the asshole a pity fuck just to alleviate some of the tension around the office, but the idea was gone before she had time to gag.

This was a sure sign that she needed a swift punch to the eye.

"Just kill me, Reno," she groaned as she nudged her way through his apartment door. "I'll be your best friend!"

"I ain't gonna kill you. Then you'll be a dead friend."

"Yeah, well... those are just details," she grumbled with a shrug, shuffling her way toward the couch. "Just take me outta commission for a little while then. A nice long coma or somethin'."

Reno sighed. "You know I wouldn't want that. Besides, I don't think I could if I wanted to."

Plopping down on the worn sofa, she finally took in his appearance. He was just has haggard and exhausted as she was, his form seemingly glued to his spot on the other end, arms sprawled out and his head tilted back. If she didn't know better, he was minutes from his own death.

She smirked. "I know, I know... I'm just being a whiny cunt rag tonight."

One aquamarine eye twitched. "That's a... nice nickname there."

"Sorry," she chuckled. "How vulgar and unlady-like of me."

The redhead snickered. "You are fine, darlin'. Better than bein'... a girly girl?"

A mahogany eyebrow lifted and she gave him a gentle nudge on his arm. "I was being sarcastic, love."

"I'm too tired to process sarcasm... _love_," he jeered, with a twisted smirk.

She replied with sticking out her tongue. "Don't be an idiot, Reno. I mean, it's cute and all... but..."

"Idiot?!" he exclaimed. "I'm not one!"

"I know, Tiger," she said with a grin, shifting herself to settle closer to his side. "Hey, can I be needy for a second?"

His eyes slid to the side, giving a weary glance in her direction. "Well, thanks for the warnin'. Whatcha want?"

"Kiss."

"A kiss? A KISS? Oh, that's askin' just too much for me!" He lifted his eyes back to where they'd been fixed on the ceiling and fought a shit eating grin. She'd fight him until she got her way. He knew this, even hoped for it.

He was rewarded with a shrug. "I guess whiskey will do." With that, Aerith stood and made her way to the kitchen.

Reno's eyebrows furrowed, his brain trying to figure out exactly what was off about this result. A moment passed. _Wait just a god damn minute._

"Hey now!" He made to get up, but quickly decided he was still in too much pain and sighed in resignation before drumming his fingers along the armrest, watching her walk away. "Whiskey? Over _me_? I feel like... second rate!"

"Well, you didn't wanna!" she shot back, rummaging around for one of the whiskey bottles before settling on one they'd opened a few nights before and heading back to her place on the couch. "Your loss."

"Psh. Yeah, my loss. I'm runnin' outta whiskey, you know that, dear. Now give me a damn kiss for payment." He lifted one eyebrow in a subtle threat.

She considered him for a moment, debating if she should give in to the whims of such a man acting like a pouting child, but the look on his face was too pathetically cute to resist. Besides, a kiss was easy payment.

Leaning over him until her lips were just inches from his own, she spoke softly. "Well... if I pull a few favors, I can get you more by tomorrow." Silently, she counted how many bullets she still had in her gun, and wondered if Al would be up for another one of her liquor fetching escapades. He was still pretty ticked over the fate of his coat.

"More, eh?" The words were uttered with anything but concern for the subject at hand, and he grinned before grabbing her by the collar of her jacket and yanking her into a full forced kiss.

Resisting the urge to smile, Aerith returned the kiss firmly, placing a hand on the armrest beside him for support as he drew back more along the cushions, pulling her to lie against him by the jacket he still claimed vehemently in his hand.

He wouldn't give in just yet, his lips pressing harder along her own. His other hand slowly climbed up along her thigh, giving a slight squeeze of the toned muscle underneath. He was awarded with a groan of undisputed defeat, the forgotten bottle of whiskey she held falling helplessly to the floor beside them.

The clatter on the floor was enough to cause the Turk to break the kiss, ensuring that he sucked the very breath out of her as he pulled away. His own breath was erratic, hand still creeping up the slit of her onyx dress, fingers sprawling with teasing curiosity over her shapely legs. He grinned, raising that favored eyebrow. "You dropped your love of your life."

Without missing a beat, she gave a scoff and playfully nudged his chin a bit before placing a kiss on it. "Fishing again, Reno? Really, now..." The turn of conversation prodded a sigh and the brunette lowered her face to his neck, placing light kisses over the pale skin, up to his earlobe, tugging gently at it with her teeth. She whispered her next words. "Don't make me say it again."

"Maybe I want you to say it again.," he was just as quick to reply. "Besides, I like fish." But he let it go for the time being, relishing the affectionate touch she granted his skin, his hand reaching farther upwards before she could reply, tugging at the silk undergarment she wore. One skilled finger slipped into the material, lingering along the crease that connected to her thigh.

A pent up groan that she hadn't yet realized was there escaped at the work of his finger. "Not fair, Reno."

She raised her head once more and looked at him, smirking for a moment before giving a slight shake of the head. She leaned down to kiss his lips briefly, then pulled back to focus her eyes on his. The gaze she got in return was intense, and there was no getting out of it. He really did want to hear it again, and her steel resolve to remain quiet about those damning words turned into a thin sheen of ice, ready to crumble dare he breathe on it. She was suddenly nervous. "I love you, Reno."

He merely paused all movement for a few short seconds to mumble, with a tone far too knowing and wise for his age, "You love me?" That slender digit grasped the silken material, bringing the object down her legs and finally away from her with some careful manuevering. He licked his lips, knowing well that she wanted exactly what he was giving her. His eyes traced the contours of her face, watching her with interest.

Aerith sighed and shook her head. This was the reaction she'd expected, and despite any false hope, she knew she'd receive nothing different. "Forget I said anything." She swallowed hard, battling with herself about removing his hand from her and letting him continue. Yeah, she wanted him, but now he was just playing games with her. But, then again, that was the whole point of their little affair. "Reno..."

The redhead drew in a breath. "Oi, come on, babe. You're ruinin' the moment here."

She didn't reply, but her lips quirked just enough to let her know she wasn't going to stop him. His other arm wrapped around her waist, bringing her body close, her thighs straddling his lap. His fingers teased, feathering around her inner thigh, but his eyes remained on hers. If she truly wanted him to quit, all she had to do was ask, and he was holding back in anticipation of her command.

It was, of course, a hopeless cause. She bit her lip, her muscles liquifying as they always did when he touched her like that. She gave a sigh and leaned down to kiss his lips.

It didn't even matter if it was a lie at this point. She'd stupidly made herself vulnerable, but she'd known she would before she'd even spoken up. Somewhere it had been a conscious choice. Raising her head to look at him, she took a breath, body still trembling from his hands on her.

"Say it. I won't ask ever again, I swear."

His fingers kept their feathery touch along her skin, pausing once more when she spoke, and blinking up at her. Hadn't he said it to her at some point? "Say it? Say that I love you darlin'? I believe I've already said it before." He had... hadn't he? "But if you request it again, I will. Is that what you want?"

A guilty smirk found its way to her lips. "I just wanted to hear it. That's all." She shifted her body slightly upon his, capturing his lower lip in hers and giving it a light tug before placing a full kiss on him, her hands coming up to weave through his fiery hair. Better to end the conversation this way, she figured. She wouldn't force it.

He couldn't help but respond to the kiss, eyelids would lower while he pulled his arm into her figure, drawing her closer to him. Those fingers that treaded along her thigh kneaded softly. He pulled apart from her lips, grinning. "You know... you gotta give me a chance to say it."

The silly, silly woman returned the grin, playfully mussing his hair, gentle enough not to cause any significant change in it. Not that such an unruly mess could be further ruined. "You don't have to, Tiger. I'm just bein'... I dunno... fucked up, as always."

And it was alright. The words would come with a hefty price tag if he uttered them under the circumstances, and she wasn't ready to bear the burden, self-inflicted or otherwise. She chuckled and shifted her hips once more upon him, trying to settle more comfortably.

"Sorry, you won't find much of a comfortable spot, darlin'. I'm a bit... bony." He snickered at that statement, his hand still underneath her dress. A smirk would play across his lips while lowering his head to gently kiss her slender throat. The words were unexpected, seemingly from both of them, a soft whisper of woven silk against her skin. "You know I care for you, darlin'. You know I have feelings, too."

"Reno? Feelings?" She scoffed dramatically, giving a smirk as he gave attention to her neck, even knowing he couldn't see it at the moment. The timing was in poor taste, but the weight of something heavier was likely to crush her and choke the breath right out of her body.

He rolled his eyes. "Funny how so many people can say that." Oh, he knew that was sarcastic, but it wasn't the first time he'd been told such things. Then again, he was aware of his own reputation.

Aerith chuckled, the humor leaving her with the sound, and her tone a little more somber. She figured she owed him a better reply. "I know, Reno."

His tongue escaped from between his lips, licking along the flesh slowly. His fingers would linger back up towards the exposed being of her body, briskly touching over the sensitive region. "I know... you know... darlin'."

With that, he carefully began working his fingers, while keeping his lips ever so close to her skin, earning a shudder and gasp from the woman above him.

Her green eyes closed against the rest of the world, hips shifting once more, this time to grind against his practiced hand in desperation for more pressure.

The tips of his fingers peeled at the slick petals until finding the very pleasure core that would send any woman to shiver. He worked the small knob with the utmost care, making sure to apply a good amount of pressure every third stroke. He lifted his head to watch her reactions, listening to the low vocals that began to spill past blood colored lips. A smile spread over his face, his other arm wrapped around her frame, holding her close to him.

Her eyes opened again, only to roll back slightly into her head. Her moans broke into whimpers at his skillful work upon her and she raised a hand to his shoulder, fingernails biting into the skin, weakly protected by the fabric of his white shirt. Her other hand lifted as well, tugging her own hair to the side, fully exposing a side of her neck, the cool air welcome as sweat began to form a slight sheen over her skin. Her hips ground into him harder, pressure already building in her abdomen. "Reno... oh, fuck..."

"Ah... my name and that word never fit so perfectly together," he murmured with a grin, lowering his eyelids to soak in her actions, her words, her very esscence. Oh, how he enjoyed pleasuring a woman, almost as much as recieving it himself. His arm slithered further around her figure, sliding his hand along her stomach, holding her captive while feeling each grind that she gave his fingers. He removed his pointer finger from its task only to place his thumb over the gland. He pressed against it, feeling her pubic bone from the pressure was forcing upon her. He quickly thrust her against him, whispering against her ear. "Mmm... my name belongs on your lips."

The shift in sensations paired with his quiet words sent a primal groan of his name past her lips as she came hard against his fingers, her muscles contracting violently.

Reno tilted his head out of mere satisfaction at the sound of his name as it tore from her, just the way he liked it.

She shuddered over and over, too weak to hold up her weight, and she let herself collapse against him, breathing hard. She weakly rotated her hips once more against his hand, riding out the delicious waves of her waning orgasm. "...god damn..."

He continued to lightly press on her clit, making her ride the spasms of her orgasm all the more. A twisted smile played along his lips, lowering them and pressing against her flesh before lingering up to her temple, licking the salt from her flushed skin. "Mmm... darlin'... you taste like a tear."

Aerith chuckled a bit and reared her head back slowly, looking at him. "That's got to be one of the weirdest things I've ever been told... but I kinda like it." She smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He accepted her kiss eagerly, giving a smirk then after. "Really now? Well, gotta make an impression somehow." He pulled his hand out from her dress, placing it to his lips and flicking his tongue along the surface of his finger. "Mm. Finger lickin' good."

Biting her lip, she smirked as she watched him. "You're killin' me, Tiger." She bent herself to lean down and kiss his neck softly. "Alright... now say it." She snickered, knowing she was just being a pain in the ass now.

"Say it? Alright I say that you taste mighty good darlin'." He just grinned while sucking off his finger once more.

The brunette rolled her eyes and laughed, quickly sticking her tongue out at him. "Alright, babe... I guess I'm off, then. Will I see you tomorrow?"

Reno's expression instantly dropped from smug to flabbergasted. "Don't leave!"

She offered a smile and kissed his forehead before peeling herself from him and getting to her feet in search of her discarded undergarments. "I should."

"No, you shouldn't."

"And why not?"

"Because..." he began, eyes shifting as he thought quickly. "I said so?"

She laughed. "Nice try."

The defeated Turk sighed.

Deciding she'd lost yet another article of clothing to the chaos that was Reno and his apartment, she winked at him and sauntered for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, right? Your day to win the pool. And I have to go make sure that doesn't happen."

"Alright, alright," he mumbled absently, listening as the door clinked shut behind her. It wasn't until he heard her footsteps halfway down the hall that he registered what she said. He shot up. "Hey, wait a minute!"


	18. 065 Rivalry

065. Rivalry

"Aerith."

_God damn, it's cold in here._

"Aerith. Wake up."

_I think my nose is going fall off._

"Aerith... it's over."

_Where the fuck is my gun?_

"We did it."

Moss green eyes blinked open, immediately meeting a startling set of cerulean blue orbs, hope, relief, and tears reflecting her own puzzled expression back at her.

"Are you alright?"

Cloud. What was he doing there?

Slowly, the environment began to sink in; cold on the ground, sharp rocks digging into her back. The air was crisp, bitter cold, smells of smoke, traces of ash. Was this hell?

"Aerith?"

Cloud was still awaiting a response.

"I'm... okay," she finally said, pushing herself to sit upright. Cloud leaned back onto his heels from where he hovered, and she could feel his eyes boring into her.

"I'm okay," she repeated, though there was no more confidence in her voice than the first time, her eyes taking in their surroundings. She knew this place.

The Northern Crater. All the signs of fresh battle. Scraped up, bruised, haggard members of AVALANCHE all regrouping and watching her with worn eyes of too many weeks of muted terror and disillusionment.

This couldn't be real.

"It's over," the voice of the young ninja spoke shakily, disbelief as tangible as the strained silence in the air. "You did it."

"You did it," another voice came, dark, deep, and masculine.

"You did it," repeated another, then another, the voices mingling together in militant and sinister unity.

Aerith shut her eyes, fighting off a swell of anxiety. This wasn't right. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was downcast at the form of her legs curled under her, and her breath faltered.

Her dress was pink.

* * *

Midgar was the same. Almost.

The destruction was still fresh from when the plate had collapsed, so it was certainly dustier, but it still had that dank, seedy quality in the parts that weren't covered in rubble and still slightly inhabitable. Although the word _inhabitable_ was subjective, not so high on the list to anyone that had standards. Fortunately, most of them didn't.

Them.

Aerith was still in shock. It just couldn't be. It had been maybe two days since she'd found herself in this compromising disposition, two days of a peculiar journey along turbulent air, the silence thick, even over the roar of the airship. She watched all of _them_, the group she'd once called her companions, the entire time without sleep. There were a few reasons for that, however. The shock of finding herself in this place, in this time, was not going to allow for a moment's rest, but then she wasn't sure she'd even wanted to sleep, anyway.

Maybe it was a dream, but she could feel everything, hear everything, taste and smell the air, the fumes from the ship's emissions, and she knew it couldn't have been. It was entirely real, and if it was to be so, she'd found a few answers to questions she was sure would never in her life be resolved.

Two days before, she'd awoken from bloody battle, and it was all over. Meteor was a dead, black, inanimate reminder in the sky, the way she remembered it. She often found herself staring at it when her teammates had gone to sleep, or to their respective posts for the night, and there was no longer anyone to watch her. It looked exactly the same. She'd taken it out of commission, fully alive and intact. That much was apparent, and there was one question answered. She hadn't needed to be dead first.

And somehow she _wasn't_ dead. Was all of that just an intricate, lifelike dream? Had she bumped her head on something in the Forgotten City, only to enter a whole new false realm, a dream state, and follow it through the next several years of her life?

It was surprising to her that she was afraid to even ask any of her teammates if such a thing had happened in that place. This being no longer felt like her, but these strange impulses and habits and hesitations overpowered her desire to be person she'd come to know as herself. Or at least... the person she'd come to believe was herself.

What the hell was happening here?

"Aerith," a smooth, yielding voice spoke from behind her.

Her first instinct was to reach for her gun, just like when she had regained consciousness, but recognition sank in before she could, a delayed afterthought of sense coming next. She didn't have a gun.

Tightening her jaw with dislike for that realization, she twisted around from the plank she was perched upon, and mustered a smile for the feline creature that had leapt up behind her without her knowledge. "Hello, Nanaki. Is there something I can help you with?"

Even her own greetings were alien to her ears.

"We've arrived in Midgar," he stated gently, stepping forward with obvious trepidation. He was acting as though he was fearful of triggering an irrational reaction.

She twisted her lips to the side, hoping that she didn't appear as crazy as felt. Then realized her expression probably didn't help her objective. "Ah, yeah. I saw that. Thank you, Nanaki. I was just... thinking."

He seemed to be aware of this.

"Yes," he drawled out carefully, then took several more steps foward, as though she'd just gained an ounce of trust she hadn't even known she'd lost. Or perhaps he was trying to keep his voice from reaching others. "You do seem... troubled. Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

Aerith peered into his yellow eyes for a long moment. They were friends, even after she'd turned to the other side and begun working for ShinRa. If that had even happened. However, she knew that Red XIII was someone she could trust; bountiful in the way of insight, empathy, and wisdom far beyond his years.

She could tell him, he could offer her advice, another perspective, or perhaps just sympathy. He could come to her when the others were distracted as they conspired to figure out just what had happened, if it was all a dream, of if she was the victim of a timewarp. _Like the Rocky Horror Picture Show and shit._

Her body gave a shudder as the words crossed her mind. Even thinking such profane things was beginning to feel unusual. Swallowing, she offered a small shake of her head. No matter how it might turn out, it was a risk that she wasn't about to take. Even the remote possibility of being hospitalized, probably diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder, didn't sit well with her.

"Thank you, Nanaki," she said, "but I'll be alright. Just... in shock from everything, I guess." She gestured with a finger toward the blackened star that hovered dormant above.

She was certain he didn't buy it. Whether it was false or not, she seemed so familiar with his mannerisms, and the way in which he lowered his head in acceptance, but kept his piercing gaze on her as he turned away, things that told her that he thought she was downright lying. Of course he would know. She could only hope he'd know it was better not to pry, as well.

Once he was gone, and the others were off the ship, she lingered only a few minutes. She was left alone to these thoughts, chillingly unclear of just whose thoughts they really were anymore.

With sullen movements, Aerith slid off the plank and made her way off the ship, step by heavy step in her old brown boots, clinging to the last moments she might have of the woman she thought she had come to be. Once she set foot on the ground, she knew that woman would be gone, buried deep inside, for how long would remain to be seen.

* * *

They were smiling. All of them. All of the vagrants, the working class, all of the pedestrians that lined the streets of their various levels of social status. Even those that had lost limbs, homes, loved ones. There was unabashed gratitude in the moist eyes of almost everyone they passed as they shuffled down the sidewalk of the filthy city like a pack of battered war heroes. Aerith knew, to each of them, that's exactly what they were, and this was their makeshift parade.

Love, respect, admiration, every fulfilling emotion a soul could desire were presented to them like chests full of gold, watching the group with pride as they humbly made their way through the town. Some of them applauded, some came to get a handshake, a hug, even a few soot covered children asking for autographs. The Ancient, they called her. Somewhere she knew she had barely heard herself referred to by that title in years, but her natural reaction to the name came with ease, as though she'd heard it a thousand times that very day.

A smile formed, on whose lips was unknown, but it was there, reciprocating the gratitude to every other relieved face, paired with sparkling green eyes of quickly developing sincerity.

This is what it was supposed to have felt like, she was learning. This was the glory, the swell of emotion at the visage of a good deed's result she had missed out on. She had no idea what it had been like for them after she had died and they had returned without her accompaniment, and was certain the reception was far more somber and little more forced as the townspeople tiptoed around touchy subjects. But this time they had lost little. She was there. She could see the results of her actions for herself, and the overwhelming sense of relief that came with their success. The bad guy lost, and the good guys won.

She had saved these people, and they were grateful to her. There was no malice, no hatred, no betrayal on their faces, nothing that resembled the expressions she'd come to know so well when she walked these streets. They were the kinds of people she was glad they had been able to spare.

It took a few moments to realize that her eyes were filling with tears, and she was whispering a _thank you_ to a citizen stricken with relief, in place of a _you're welcome_. She was just as grateful to them as they were to her and the rest of the group, and the feeling was undeniably worth embracing.

It went on for blocks, until the blocks seemed to become miles. Aerith Gainsborough, The Ancient, stopped caring how long they'd been walking. She was consumed by this alien world, envying every permanent fixture, from the bricks to the lamp posts. It was almost sad to think how easily she'd forgotten what it was like, to simply be appreciated by those around her. She felt like she'd gone her whole life without knowing this, but it had only been a few years, if her vivid dream was real.

Enveloped in the middle of her companions as they continued down the sidewalk, their destination to find what was left of Tifa's bar, it occurred to the Cetra that she had instantly referred to it as a _dream_ that might have been real, and not the other way around. She could only suppose then that she was starting to become fond of this feeling, the tangible joys of gratification. Only she didn't have to suppose.

She guiltily relished it, all the way to the door of Tifa's unoccupied, and admittedly mostly destroyed business, through the night of celebrating with her friends, these people that hadn't given up on her and left her behind.

Maybe this was home.

* * *

Three days swept past, and Aerith was beginning to wander the town more and more on her own, no sense of caution that she felt every time she stepped out her door in the few years past. Its absence was inviting, and she could almost reach that sense of belonging she'd been missing all that time, when in reality it might have been just a few months since she'd left here to embark on her mission with her new friends.

Still, not much had changed about the town. It was still dank and riddled with scars, infested with an abundance of the world's most unsavory characters, but the Ancient feared none of it. The malice that she knew these people were capable of was still hidden deep below the surface, and graciously away from her. They offered smiles, even days after they'd welcomed her and her companions, as she walked past.

For a moment, Aerith thought she could live like this. Another moment, however, just a fleeting glimpse of familiarity to a past that may not have even existed, sprang up in attempt to change all of that.

There was a young child, a boy with impossibly dark hair and a complexion that had never experienced much natural sunlight, running toward Aerith, brushing past against the skirt of her pink dress in his haste, and giggling an apology as he ran on his way. A glance up with eyes of stunning garnet.

Ash.

It wasn't him, of course. It couldn't have been, and she knew it. This was someone else's child, his life sprung from a plane that Ash was not a part of. His name would be different, not a reminder of the man who used to be her best friend, the same friend she and her friends had just defeated days before. The child would have different parents, not the spawn of a habitual substance abuser, nor a haunted man with a demon monopolizing more of his life than his own family. This was a happy child, unaffected by her missteps in responsibility.

And how awful she was for having forgotten for those three blissful days of ignorance. She'd even seen Vincent, and still she'd been reminded of nothing, nor did she feel anything for him. That was a screaming red flag that he was a mistake to begin with, with the exception of the son she'd gotten out of it. Now she was being spared the choice, at least, if she decided to see it with such blind optimism.

Minutes later, the notion was swept from her mind, and she knew, without a doubt, that someone was playing a cruel joke on her. Twice in the same five minutes was just too coincidental.

She'd know that head of hair anywhere, the color of molten lava, disorderly and so appropriate for the man who possessed it. He looked haggard, thinner than he should have been, dark circles lining his aquamarine eyes.

Aerith faltered, pausing there on the street, cold sweeping over every nerve in her body and coating her in remembrance. Years of a sordid relationship flashed past in just a few frames inside her head. Her eyes locked on his as he approached from where he'd walked around a corner, no question to their mutual recognition. Her lips parted, a started breath being pulled into her aching lungs.

He wasn't slowing his pace. His hands were in his pockets, his ShinRa issue jacket no where to be seen, his white shirt untucked, as always. He appeared as though he hadn't slept in days.

"Oh, hey," she heard him mumble from his pale lips, his scent invading her senses as he brushed lightly against her and kept walking.

Suddenly shivering, she didn't turn around to catch him. The street felt cold, darker and far more haunted than it had been just moments before. She just stood still, breathing in every trace of that scent that still lingered.

Reno didn't know her. Not well, anyway. Just another that might have referred to her as 'The Ancient' had she solicited conversation. Her fingers felt numb, and the sensation was slowly creeping over her whole body. No one here knew her at all, she was coming to realize. Her friends knew a part of her that she had secretly come to regret, a part of her that she'd fought hard to squander. How would they feel if they knew that? That she might have done things differently if given the opportunity and the perspective she'd gained?

A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach gnawed at her.

Those choices, however, had still brought her to where she was. Or had been. Even if it wasn't real. Those she loved, hated, merely tolerated, all of them, dead and gone if she hadn't made those choices. It didn't make her feel proud. She knew, deep down, it was something that she'd needed to do. And she would have chosen to do it again. Even if now no one knew who she was.

This could have been what she was meant for. A solitary existence in the form of a shadow in the corners of everyone else's lives. A name and legend, an event. History, rather than a human life, even as she lived and breathed. Aerith Gainsborough; a shell of a spent existence.

But was home any different?

The question that tightened her throat as it floated past. Home. No, she determined. It wouldn't be that way. Someone, somewhere, knew who she really was. Probably someone she didn't know yet, herself. She would, though. This was to be her purpose.

She wanted to be home, wherever it was. Swallowing, shaken in the broad daylight, Aerith left this spot on the street, the place where she'd learned that not her son, nor even the man that had come to be her only real friend, knew who she was, and she went to the only place that had ever come close.

The church still stood. Of course, she'd known this already. In her alternate life, it had been there, large and daunting when she'd come back to Midgar. Only this time, she'd have the bravery to go in.

The doors opened easily, and the pews were properly aligned, beams of dusty sunlight streaking the floor. The flowers grew in their brilliant tones at the altar. This was where she brought herself to, feet at the edge of her tiny garden, flooded eyes at the wall beyond it.

She sank to her knees slowly, blinded by tears she hadn't known were there, and clasped her hands before her. She prayed a selfish, long justified prayer, a plea for home. Eyes of glossed jade closed, pushing the unshed tears down her cheeks, and she would accept that wherever she was when they opened was the home she would accept for her own, even if it meant taking her back to the Lifestream, back into the hands of ShinRa, or right here in this very sanctuary.

_Just give me home._

* * *

Clear jade eyes opened with welcoming, and lips of crushed ruby opened to draw in a gasp of life-giving air, as though it was her first breath all over again. Three times now.

Her gaze settled on a ceiling, the visual texture dark and familiar. Warmth beside her, breath in her ear, arms tightening around her.

"S'alright," a masculine voice murmured, sleep-tinged and distantly concerned, "Just sleep, darlin'."

"Mm... sorry for waking you," she returned quietly.

It could have been a dream. She didn't care. She'd gotten what she'd asked for.

Her eyes blinked slowly, her vision blurring but never leaving from the image above her that she'd seen from the second she'd opened her eyes. A trick of lights cast across the ceiling, the silver haired demon was smirking down at her before she closed her tired eyes and let sleep melt his presence away.

_Thank you._

* * *

SEVENTEENBLACK LIVES! That's right. Got more stuff comin'. Sorry for the delays, guys. Life gets in the way. 


	19. 066 Match

066. Match

The devil wore a white suit.

For the longest time, Aerith had mistakenly thought the devil would have red hair and a cigar perpetually on hand. She really should have known better than to believe such hype.

The price of selling her soul came in a standard manila envelope, her name printed in neat caps across the middle, and the ShinRa logo stamped with careful measurements in the upper left hand corner. The sealed flap was smooth and flawless, not an air pocket or peeling corner to be found.

She'd known well what was inside the moment it was placed before her on the sterile white desk she sat behind. She didn't need to see the contents. She'd seen these very objects handed out to only a select group of people around the office, and knew damn well why.

"From President ShinRa, Miss," the lackey in a starch blue uniform had informed her before pivoting militantly on a heel and marching back out of the lab.

Aerith knew it would come sooner or later. It was part of her deal, after all. The provision that she had insisted upon herself, despite Rufus' hesitation. If questions arose, it needed to appear legit, and this was the best way she knew how to make it so. Rufus clearly had confidence in her abilities, as he gave in without much of a fight. Either that, or he simply knew a good deal when he saw one, the business man he was by nature, and had the sense to handle such rare commodities with care. She would get almost anything she wanted out of the deal. That much needed to be left unspoken, the statement all encapsulated in the devil's smile, and an accommodating nod. For the first time, she was starting to wonder if she should have asked for a lot more.

The deal was made, however, and she would abide willingly.

It wasn't two hours before she had reached her destination, no more than three minutes ahead of schedule. She'd just barely miscalculated how long it would take her to get home first, to retrieve the one item she'd need for fulfilling the ugly task before of her.

Too long she had sat on her bed, staring at the contents of the envelope, and the smooth, black piece of machinery that lie across it, a calling fit for demon. Or at the very least, a sociopath. She felt sick to look upon the various documents and photographs, to put a name to a face, to personify what was to be nothing more than a note in her record. A demon's resume, no doubt.

The gun was polished, gleaming up at her, mostly untouched, save for occasional routine cleanings, since its last victim, the same diseased soul as its last owner. Aerith had pulled it from the case where she kept it, holding it in her hand with a tense jaw, as though the metal might burn clean through her skin at any given second. This was her choice, though. Rufus would have happily supplied her with something else, she was certain, but she knew, even despite her apprehension, that she'd wanted to use this gun.

The Death Penalty. Aptly named, she thought darkly, her eyes peering out from the shadows of the alley. No longer did she kill for a greater good, or a noble cause. She was simply an executioner of broken laws, arbitrary and self-serving. But it was law, and she was a pawn in someone else's hand.

Time. The declaration reared up at her from the display on her PHS, and she slid the device away safely in the pocket of the charcoal grey coat she wore. Quickly, her eyes darted up to the building across the street, her gloved hands shaking as she tugged at the edges of her sleeves.

A woman, no more than thirty, stepped from the building's front doors and on down the sidewalk, distracted and unaware of the other's presence. On she walked, until reaching a corner, and slipping away from Aerith's line of vision.

Her gaze slid back to the building, idly noting that Rufus, or whomever was responsible for ShinRa Intelligence, had done their research well. But then she'd expect no less from such filthy wealth.

The street was mostly empty, likely why its location was chosen, she figured, and she easily made her way to the building without attracting any sort of attention. The air was almost too still, not even the distant barking of a dog or a car horn within earshot. Silently, she slid inside the alley to the side of the brick structure, and to the appointed service entrance she was to use. Unsteady hands reached in her pocket, withdrawing the key she'd been given, and slid the metal into the lock. It unlocked with no resistance, and instantly, Aerith was inside a dark stairwell.

With careful steps in her thick-soled black boots, she began to ascend them en route to the fate that would damn her forever, glaringly aware of the holstered gun inside her coat, rubbing against her elbow. She counted the steps, every nearly inaudible thud as she made her way to the directed floor, down the deserted hallway, and to the door of her impending sentence. She momentarily wondered which of the two of them was getting the short end of the stick.

She only hesitated a moment. One fragment of time for a string of life-long questions and morals to gather in her head and seek justification and atonement. That was the only time she gave them, the briefest of moments to let the bile rise in her throat, burning holes in the lining of her esophagus. Then the moment was over, and that was that.

The second key was in the door, turning efficiently until there was a soft _click_, and Aerith found herself inside the dim apartment. Unremarkable. Apartment white walls, floral couch, scenic paintings scattered around the walls in predictable pattern. She glanced down to find Death Penalty drawn and cocked in hand, pointed down at the floor as she stealthily made her way through the dwelling with quick steps, following the sound of a television. Her eyes kept vigilant watch around her, absorbing every detail, leery of shadows and opened doors, anything that could conceal a fate even worse than she.

But she was the only reaper, she found, and her claim lie just ahead, protected by nothing but a cheap wooden door.

There was no hesitation this time, and her gloved fingers wrapped firmly around the doorknob, turning it, and pushing it open in perfect succession. The gun was aimed, poised above the subject long before she'd even registered his face.

His mouth dropped open, his body flinging backward from where he'd lie on his sloppy and unmade bed, only to hit the wall and press himself to it. She knew without a doubt that he was hoping desperately to be absorbed into its fibers.

"P-please," he stuttered, holding his hands out before him in surrender.

The gun didn't waver in her hands, even as she advanced foward to stand beside the blaring television. He looked different in the pictures, she observed, more sinister and capable of whatever offense he was guilty of in still frames.

Here and now he simply looked helpless.

"What do you want?" he asked in a violently shaking voice. "I have money. I'll give you anything."

Her throat locked up, and her mouth stayed closed, tight, air roughly being sucked in through her nose. She simply had no words she could offer. There was no solace an executioner could bring to its condemned, nor an incentive to sway the encumbrance of a bartered soul.

Her eyes peered through his, transcendent and lucid, knowing with raw and firsthand clarity every thought that was racing through the mind of her prey. _His_ prey. The collection decreed by the ivory clad devil. The woman between them was merely the bearer of prophecy. A clear horned demon, falling from the heavens with great speed.

The shot rang out into the void of white noise before she could even muster a preemptive apology.

She lowered the gun, not bothering to reholster it just yet. Her eyes fixed to the sight before her, a gruesome view to accompany an imagined smell of fresh death. The face was mostly gone, and the wall behind it blanketed in a coat of organic red pigment. The hands were limp at the sides, twisted at near unnatural angles against the mattress below. Instant.

Emerald eyes dropped to the gun in her gloved hand. It looked no different than it had before. Just an odor of gunpowder. Gleaming, brilliant, unchanged and uneffected by the deed. She found herself awed by its composure, the tiniest of smiles tugging at her lips. Such beautiful craftsmanship, fashioned and molded for one single devoted purpose. And she had fulfilled its potential.

She looked back to the scene in front of her, and where she thought she'd feel pain, illness, fear, unbearable remorse, she felt almost nothing at the macabre art. Almost.

There was a tingle, quick and steadfast, crawling its way under her skin, up her spine and into her skull, making her shake with it. Oh, but she knew this feeling. Like the touch of a skilled lover. Adrenaline, endorphins, unfettered bliss.

As she made her way back out the door, into the darkness and apathy of the empty street, Aerith realized with a wash of intoxicating warmth throughout her being, that few things in her life had ever been easier.

* * *

Note: Jumped back a bit into Aerith's history, her earliest days with ShinRa, and this... her first contract kill. Yay! 


	20. 069 Overdose

069. Overdose

(Part 1 of 3, to be continued in 073 Need and and 074 Pain)

Somewhere the path had changed.

Somewhere, some time, I'd realize the notions I harbored, dreamed – obligatory goals for this second chance – were as quixotic and foolish as they'd been the first time around. The first _life_ around. Expectations were respectable; naivete was not. A life of things I'd missed out on – boundless and arbitrary standards. There was no cause, nor effect in sight.

But _this_ was just stupid.

When all of this had come to light, I don't know. The answer didn't reveal itself in the eyes of my companion, opaque onyx, blended into large lust-filled pupils. I only saw my reflection, lies glaring back into my haggard face. Lines, across my brow, pleating my parched lips, distinguishing the two halves of myself down the middle, visible only to me.

"This your first time?" the urchin panted. Sticky, warm breaths of anticipation, the kind that made you want to wipe the moist residue from your skin if the fallout reached you.

Images of a solitary night on a bedroom floor, tangles of blood red and cinnamon waves. Quiet, inward denials and ironically paired with submissions, the goose flesh of heightened senses and hot breath against glistening skin. The kind of breath that made you want to breathe it in for yourself, through pores and follicles until your body liquefied and you couldn't tell one being from the other.

"No." It seemed absurd to reply with anything else.

"Good. Gotta be careful of first timers," he volunteered, ignorant of how uninterested I was as I watched his hands with thin patience. Was this guy really foiled by a childproof bottle?

"Yeah. I bet they have a bitch of a time with those childproof seals."

His hands stilled around the translucent orange bottle, deep set eyes glancing flatly in my direction. Agitated druggie glare. I made a mental note of it as he hastily tossed the bottle at me.

This was even more stupid.

The label was torn off, I saw, as I picked it up from against my thigh, feeling the urge to wipe if off from its contact with the filthy mattress we both sat upon. Impulsive urge, senseless, seeing as we were both now tarnished with its grime, mentally perceived or otherwise. I gave in, the motion small and intended to be secret, a quick brush against the cylinder before pressing down on the tab that jutted out beneath the lid, freeing it from its lock once I twisted with the other hand.

"Was this the original bottle?" I asked, lifting my eyes from the contents inside with some hesitation to his glazed black eyes.

"I... no. It's good shit," the urchin mumbled. "I just keep it in that."

I had my doubts.

Shaking the contents into my cupped palm, white tablets leaving powder traces on my skin, I observed the image before me, thinking on just how I'd come to make this stupid choice. At this point, however, reasons had no distinct borders, blurs of states overlapping, one reason an excuse for the next. What other reason was there beyond moral dishonesty? Artificial euphoria; a quick trip to paper paradise and all its plastic palm trees.

I started with six. Counting milligrams suddenly seemed too high-brow, and defeated the purpose entirely. Dank and run down apartment, stained mattress, this den of stereotypical depravity put my own living quarters to shame, and felt like a scene right out of a Gus Van Sant movie. Ruin this? Not on my life.

They clattered into my mouth from my hand, the uncoated pills painting my tongue in powder and bitterness. I fumbled in grabbing the glass of water from the nightstand and rapidly swallowed down a quarter of its contents, spilling a good dollop onto the exposed portion of my thigh.

The urchin said nothing, but watched the way the water dribbled down my pale thigh, until hiding away where the parted dress crumpled against the bed. Then his eyes rose to the bottle still in my hand, and he shuddered beside me, as though instantly remembering that he had the shakes and had simply forgotten.

The bottle was torn from my fingers, pale digits giving up their treasure with a limp and slow stretch. It hadn't kicked in yet, but imposed delirium had set in, relief at the very idea of impending euphoria.

"Nnn... fuck," I rasped out, pronounced and deliberate, my whole body slinking against the wall to the other side of me. I felt my eyelids, heavy with smudged eyeliner, blink over gelatinous moss green eyes as though tangibly perceiving their color, faking interest as the urchin shoved a portion of the tablets down his own throat. I merely waited for that first slow wave to penetrate.

Just what had I promised this guy in exchange for tapping into his stash? For the life of me, I couldn't remember if he'd even told me his name. Oh, but I'd noticed him from the moment I saw him, lurking just outside the puddle of light from the amber street lamp above, gaunt face peering out the hood of his sweatshirt, dark circles around his eyes, paranoid and uncertain. Easy prey.

Perhaps it hadn't been my intention for the night, but willingness to seize an opportunity had dug its claws into me with more and more frequency these days. Reno wouldn't let me into his stash anymore. Alternate sources, unknowns, those were the only way. He knew everyone that had made a name for themselves around these slums. I'd have maybe a day's grace period to hightail it before word got back to him.

Thinking about him, as it always did, swept a current through my veins, and the wave began prematurely. I took a stolen moment of lucidity to chuckle over the idea. The urchin probably assumed I was buzzing already.

No matter how I felt about Reno at any given moment, the physical responses were blurring together in a paroxysm, each indistinguishable from the next. Pleasure resembled anger, anger resembled intense desire, resentment bearing the load of all of them. My blood burned, white hot and threatening to sear right through the iridescent skin.

I decided that six wasn't going to do the trick.

"Give me the bottle," I commanded, extending my hand, and unmoving from my lax place against the wall.

The nervous look he returned was meant to unsettle me, inspire anxiety. I knew that sort of trick. He was being a stingy little prick, deterring me from taking too much of his business. Yet, here I was, calling him names when I was getting my fix free of charge. At least, what was still free of charge until he asked for whatever payment I'd promised him and just as quickly forgotten once it was out of my deceitful mouth.

But maybe there was more to it.

"You said these weren't opiates. Right?"

"Yeah," he replied quickly, impatience clipping his words. He tossed the bottle back to me, and gave his attention to the cloth that hung in the doorway, a makeshift door just adding to the horror film-like atmosphere.

I didn't keep count once I began to pour them into my hand. The arrangement had been made on assurances, and I simply wasn't looking for reasons to be talked out of it. It's what he used all the time, he'd said. Perhaps trust was the last thing anyone should yield a junkie, especially those seeming soulless, no depth in hard black irises, but I found ignorance to be the only vestibule to temporary bliss this time around.

The next handful went down my throat easier, idly remembering the feel of Reno's hands on my arm as he gently pushed the needle into my vein, and feeling instantaneous disappointment in the difference of administration, body resigned to the knowledge that this would be the only way to forget. Or get that much closer.

But this nameless merchant wasn't Reno. Nothing that would happen here in this filthy hellhole would ever amount to the one and only time I'd crossed this line before. Not even he knew of the structural damage of my heart, and if he did, chances were I would have been cheated from that experience, as well. However, even I hadn't been made aware until months after that night in his bedroom. I lived through it, and ever since, found myself wanting to go back.

"No," was all Reno ever said about the matter. Somewhere, things had clearly changed for him, too. Thus, this cycle had begun.

I felt the cool wall against the back of my head, lulling to one side as my eyes found a lamp beside the bed, dimmed with a dirty red cloth, and giving the room an eerie glow. But I noticed none of the present.

I remembered every detail, though more than a year ago now. Urgency, and careful, prolonging measures interminged with every move we made. The fibers of the carpet, I could feel them through the fabric of the dress that remained beneath me, buttons nearly torn off in my haste to be that much closer as though my skin would burn without him. Even now, I could imagine the texture against my back so well it was nearly real.

When I thought hard enough, I could still feel him inside me, intimately locked in heat and delirium. I remembered watching from higher perspective, as though my consciousness wandered off to be a spectator, abandoning me to the fate of pure feelings, watching this form of divine demise. The two of us, only every line blurred, and I could no longer tell his flesh from that of my body, even in this perceived vantage point. Yet, even that wasn't what stood out the most and rattled me until I was on my knees if I thought too long on it.

It was his eyes. Captivating contrast from the violent reds, his hair and tattoos, clashing with every cool particle of sea-green orbs, their angry tones quelled by the serenity in which he gazed upon me beneath him. How many times I'd marveled at the contrast, I don't know. This time seemed different, though. Vibrant and more alive, keeping me pinned in absolute submission, and yet receiving his own in a silent exchange of intimate stares. Surrender. Pure, weightless.

In that moment, I'd believed him. He'd uttered no words, but I knew them. And for once, without any lingering doubt. This was the closest to divinity I'd ever been, or so I felt. The seconds seemed like hours, but once it was all over, I knew it had been over too soon.

"Hey... hey, you alive?"

I felt my eyes close. Paradise lost. Unregained. Ungiven. John Milton was a fucking liar.

"You been sittin' there for like twenty minutes."

Brilliant. The urchin knew the concept of time.

"You're... you don't look so good. Look, just give me what you owe and get the fuck out. I don't need you gettin' sick all over my fuckin' bed."

I turned her eyes toward him, and gave him the finger.

Only when I moved my eyes down, finger was still in place, against my thigh, unmoving despite my command. Alarm struck. I tried again, just to move at all, and found my fingers and limbs twitching, then moving as though weighed down by bricks.

And then came the pressure in my chest, from normal to feeling as though someone had parked a semi right on top of my ribcage. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, slowing. Slowing. Instantly, I knew exactly what was happening.

The froth bulding in my mouth only verified this knowledge, and I struggled to swallow.

"Look, if you don't pay up now, I'm gonna find your ass later... oh shit."

The little punk finally figured it out, too.

I knew, once my breath became labored, I had only minutes to find a source of an adrenaline shot before cardiac arrest.

No plastic fucking palm trees this time around. The asshole had given me an opiate.


	21. 070 Band

070. Band

Well, this seemed a little ironic, Aerith noted, fingers fumbling nervously inside the pocket of the coat she wore. Almost like a step backwards, and into the role of someone else.

There were probably a good thousand things better than this to give Reno for the occasion, but to Aerith, it was the only thing that seemed appropriate for the day it was, this, the mark of one year since their unholy union at the Gold Saucer's undoubtedly seediest chapel. She'd reached quite an extreme when she'd branded her own skin with the devotion of pain and permanence -- a replication of the mark that he'd graced her with over a year before in strokes of innocent pigment, and for something as trivial as Valentine's Day. However, she often surprised herself with her impulsive ideas and lack of rationale. Not even she knew just how far it would get, and she'd neglected to retain the sense to regret any of it. Her husband, the man she'd only refer to as such on this single day of the year, had offered helpful, if inadvertent lessons in that department, solidifying her developing appreciation for the pleasures of instant gratification. If it felt like a good thing to do, she would do it, as simply as that.

But this was different than her peculiar flavor of normalcy, even mildly conventional, which in itself was an unconventional thing for such a strange woman to do. It was slightly self-serving to a degree, she'd admit to herself guiltily, but not without her own twist of humor and distinct signature that she knew he'd survey.

Casually, she presented it to him, drawn from her pocket, the small box in the center of her palm.

Then came that inevitable disclaimer.

"You don't have to wear it. Just for today. For me. But I want you to keep it. Well, until you need to pawn it in the disastrous event that your drug stash gets dangerously low. I made sure to go with titanium, so you'll get a good chunk of cash for it."

Half of a grin painted her lips, as she was only half kidding. The ring, a plain wedding band, solid and simple, had been chosen with careful discrimination, painstakingly measured to fit his finger, and influenced by her quirky take on practicality. Such as hocking it in the event of a narcotics shortage crisis. If she got to see it on him once, the single telltale mark that this solitary aspect of his life - her title - belonged to her, she'd freeze frame it for memory and let it tide her over for another three hundred and sixty four days.

Sixty-_five_, she mentally corrected. Leap year. Of course. God was spiting her.

"Though you might lose about fifty bucks in value for that inscription on the inside," she piped up again. "I highly doubt there's a whole lotta Tigers and Snack Cakes runnin' around. Unless I missed another baby name trend."

What sadistic bastards for parents those would be.


	22. 073 Need

073. Need

Part 2 of 3, from 069 Overdose, to be continued in 074 Pain

_Sometimes it's just that nothing seems worth saving_

One could have taken a bet on which would kill her first; the chemicals in her veins, or the Turk that was destined to be furious for the call he was about to receive. There was a fifty/fifty shot either way. Without this call, though, there was no chance of making it out of this intact, and it was a risk she was going to have to make.

Aerith had another minute or two before her speech failed her completely, and just a few minutes after that, she'd likely begin to seize. The overdose hit hard and fast, and once they both realized what was happening, one panicked, the other began to think.

It took almost ten tries to get the cell from her pocket, immediately losing her grip as it fell to the floor.

Glazed eyes looked to the urchin from where she lay against the wall on the bedroom floor, the urchin pacing frantically back and forth, glancing at her every so often. They both knew what he'd done, and they'd both suffer for it. She should have known what he was giving her.

"Call... Tiger. In my phone. Hurry."

He froze. "Who? No. No, no, I can't call anyone. They'll call the police--"

"I'll be dead... in less than an hour..." she panted. Words were becoming stiff in her mouth, difficult over the muscles that began to tense. "...if you don't call. Tiger... in my contacts. If I die.. things will just get worse for you."

Staring at her, hard, he shook in anger for a good ten seconds before he bent over to yank her phone from the floor and began punching buttons. Finally, he found what he was looking for and brought it to his ear.

Aerith had only spoken of her demise so dramatically to scare the bastard into get them some help, but as her mouth began to fail her, she wondered if perhaps she'd been more correct than she'd thought. Opiates; she would eventually seize before her heart failed, and it took THIS to figure out just what she'd put in her system, thanks to her knowledge of biology. A lot of good it did her now.

* * *

The bar was dingy, though thoroughly packed with the regulars. Reno was all smiles at the bar as he watched the news unfold along the corner of the TV screen. It was the usual media of crime rates going up, as well as other mentionable crossfire. Nothing new in the Turk's eyes. Hell, he probably picked up a few of those cases to start with. Rudo was by him, silent, but knowing well the same thoughts that traveled in his companion's mind. It was only Rudo that Reno could very well be on terms with. They often finished each others' sentences. Words weren't always needed with their relationship. It was after hours, and nothing was left for them to do but bask in each others' company. It was Friday and a boy's night out.

That was until the phone vibrated in his pocket.

He was a well known man, but when the nickname of Aerith sprawled across the screen he took a moment to step away from the bar. Normally, when he told her going out with Rudo for the night it meant no phone calls. Not because he requested it, but simply because she respected his personal privacy and time with his partner he'd known since he was teenager. Flicking the phone open, he blurted out her name only to be interrupted with the man's panicked voice.

"Y-your friend is in trouble. She's dyin' here, man. She said you could help her. I don't.. I don't know what the fuck to do." The panic in the man's voice only increased with every word, cracking over the hard consonants.

Instantly, Reno felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach, and nausea washed across his body, but he kept his voice firm. At first thought he expected it to be someone who had it out for her, a hit, or even worse, that Sephiroth had returned. He knew very well the paranoid factor that she had of him and he couldn't very well blame her.

"What? Who is this?"

Those words were all he could come up with. A stranger on the other side of the phone, speaking about the only woman he actually cared for more than himself. Never minding the man's name, he quickly brought himself to speak of another array of questions.

"Where is she? What is going on?"

Rudo, hearing his partner's strained voice, rose to meet him. Reno, on the other hand, knew this was his problem and he wouldn't have his partner getting into the midst of it all. It took one hand to lift up to tell Rudo that he was not needed and it didn't concern him. The tall bald one spoke of no objections, for he knew Reno held a whole other life outside of ShinRa and his choices were very well defined as his own. He wouldn't meddle into things he wasn't meant to be in and partially for that he was relieved.

On the other side of the line, Aerith sat as patiently as her condition would allow, waiting until the urchin rattled of an address in his panic. She only hoped she'd still have enough time to mutter out another few words. With any luck, it would be enough to alert Reno of what was happening, and all she'd need to get her out of this mess. This hopeless fuck wasn't doing a great job of explaining himself.

But Reno listened, intently picking up every detail he'd need.

"--the brown brick building. Apartment four. Hurry, man. She's fuckin'... shit, hang on." The phone went muffled, the urchin's voice distant. "What the fuck are you sayin' to me? Ad.. what? Ah, fuck, fuck..." When he returned the phone to his ear, his voice had gained nearly a whole octave. "She said something about adrenaline... something. Shit. There's this.. white shit coming out of her mouth and fuck, I don't know what the fuck to do! I can't take her to a hospital!"

With the hasty information, Reno gritted his teeth and flicked his phone shut, cutting off all on the other end. He heard enough to establish where it was for Reno knew the whereabouts of the slums. He looked back to Rude.

"I have to take care of some shit, put a few on my tab partner. I'll.. Well.. I'll see you." He couldn't say he'll be back to finish the night with him. From the sounds of it, he was going to have a very busy one.

On the disconnected end of the line, the urchin's hurried tirade faded off as he began to consider his options, almost terrified to look back at the state of the brunette. When he did, his panic increased. "Shit... stay awake! Stay awake!" He dropped the forgotten phone next to her, straddling her lap and slapping her hard across the face in a vain attempt to keep her cognizant.

Jade eyes rolled upward, and all she remembered thinking was how she was going to explain this to Reno if she made it through this.

* * *

The apartment that the stranger spoke of wasn't that far from Reno's house, and this fact alone made the wonderment on what exactly happen start to clear through the midst. The good thing about the slums that everything was attainable by simply walking. Midgar wasn't that large when it came down to it, there was only a few walkable paths while other regions were cluttered with debris and metal.

The whole time Reno was at a constant sprint, taking in each building until he finally came upon the descriptive one. It was the only one that was remarkably brown in the whole area, though it was composed entirely of neutral colors, this one stood out more than the rest; worn down and rust ridden, just like his own.

With his fingers formed into tight fists at his side, he marched himself right up the front stairs; taking two at a time at most. Eyes directed on the brass number four and he promptly shoved himself in. It was dreary, but he could hear the commotion down inside the cellar. Instantly, as if he knew this all so well as flashbacks were brought into his mind of his younger days.

Shoving aside a makeshift door made by only a blanket, he shot his eyes on the man who was straddled over Aerith in a panic to get her back to reality. The man, or young man, as far as Reno could tell, was stunned to see no other than the redhead Turk come crashing into his basement.

"Sh-shit!"

Instantly, the guy stumbled away from her in a jarred mess, but Reno was already taking a hold of his dingy shirt, nailing him up against the wall and lifting his fist. He was sure the floor no longer existed being hoisted up against the brick wall.

Biting his lip, Reno was one second close to bashing his startled face in repeatedly until there was nothing more than a bloody pulp, but he knew he had to get Aerith stable. Tossing the man aside for the meantime, he brought his attention quickly to her, placing a thumb over her eyelid to try to distinguish her conscious state.

Shaken to his bones, the urchin stared at the redhead, bent over from being dropped back onto his feet. Small, deceptive black eyes glared hard between the two of them. The lying bitch hadn't told him he was calling a Turk.

"What the fuck did you give her?" Reno growled, not even sure if the man could figure out exactly what he'd said through gritted teeth. Reno wasn't going to jump into shoving things into her body if he didn't know what was flowing through her veins. He desperately wanted to end the man's life just then, the uncontrollable heat rising from his neck all the way to his face. He felt the blood in his ear pulsate and his fists coiling in case he didn't get an answer from him pronto.

It took the stranger several seconds to realize he'd been addressed, and a few more to decide if it was even worth telling him what she'd taken. He knew he had a good chance of not making it through this night intact. This Turk had a reputation. But he had to play his cards right.

"It was... ah... shit!" The bottle had gone missing, and even if he found it, it was no good. He'd torn the label off before making his pitch. "Hydra... hydro.. shit!" A new level of horror was setting in, and words were getting harder to articulate. "These pills... man... I don't know what the fuck it was. I'd used it before, but... fuck, I didn't know!"

Reno halfway ignored the panicked individual. He knew well that this man wasn't one of the professionals that he associated with. Hell, he never even been to this apartment before to take in money for payment or get his own personal perks himself.

The dealer glanced down at the woman, inhuman sounds coming from her throat, halfway between gurgling and choking, thin slivers of white foam sliding down the corners of her mouth. If this guy couldn't wake her up, he knew he was dead.

"How the fuck you know this chick? You her boyfriend?" The urchin took a step behind Reno, creeping step by step toward the door. Dread gripped his gut like a vise. If the Turk said yes, he needed to run like hell.

Finding this guy of no use, Reno narrowed his eyes at the questions springing at him. "That's none of your concern. The only thing you should value right now is your life.. Because I guarantee... your time here is _very_ limited."

They both knew that even if he chose to run, he wouldn't get very far unless he chose to leave Midgar. But everyone knew that even the outskirts of Midgar were guarded to the fullest potential. Anyone looking like him to be would be promptly told to turn around and head back, or a nice bullet in the head would commence. Not like this man had much of a choice in living any longer.

Without anymore words, Reno slithered his hands underneath Aerith's body and hoisted her up from the dingy bed that even Reno considered to be nothing but disgrace. With her now dangling limply in his arms, he paused near the young man, narrowing his eyes and craning his neck in his position. His face was merely inches away from the filth of the other.

".. You. Are. Dead. Start running, you little fuck. You won't get very far… but I'm giving you a head start." The Turk gave him a sadistic grin before turning to head up the wooden stairs, not bothering to see what the bastard would do. Last words were always worth the impact. He could take him out now, but there was more suffering knowing his life was now at stake and going through the paranoia of being basically on a hitlist.

Quickly enough, Reno ran through the streets, dodging all onlookers in his path. It was one thing to draw attention in being a Turk, but this time around he was holding what appeared to be a dead body in his arms. When finally rounding yet another bend, his long legs climbed the stairs of his apartment in no time, busting through his door and settling her on the couch. Time was of the essence and he quickly tackled the nightstand by his dresser.

He had always told Aerith to keep out of it, though telling her probably enticed her to be curious all the more.

Fingers grasped an old worn out small leather date book but concealed inside were various clean needles and a bottle of serum with the letters bold and brash printed on the side of it; Narcan. Clearly, Reno had dealt with this type of situation before. Not only, perhaps, for himself, but for others he usually dealt with. No matter what, that small date book always went with him on his trips.

Dropping to her side once more, he withdrew one of the needles that was latched to a small elastic strip to keep it secure in the velvet lining of the book. Like a professional, he wrapped her arm with an elastic rubber band, tightening it and forcing her arm up and down a few times. Next, he lined the fine pointed needle inside the bottle, retracting the proper amount and flicking the glass cavity a few times.

His expression was of all seriousness, his brow trickling a small bead of sweat as he located a vein with two fingers. Biting his lip, he sent the needle inside her skin, lightly before shifting downwards more. Once the vein was in contact, he pressed the plunger and inserted the serum into her body. From here it was up to how she took it and how long the serum would last in her system, and he know she could very well lapse into another overdose.

The only thing Aerith felt at first was the sensation of her skin, washing over in extreme heat or extreme cold, she couldn't decipher which. It burned, and her body began to shake, seemingly to compensate.

The pressure in her chest was unbearable, tight and restricting her breath. Fire. That was all it felt like. If she'd been more conscious, she would have recognized these first stages of cardiac arrest. But slowly, the pressure eased, and she found herself gathering lucidity in tedious increments, only to discover she still wasn't breathing. Her entire body jolted, a desperate effort to trigger the drawing of breath, and she still couldn't even open her eyes. An inward scream formed, lungs aching for air, and her body made another violent spasm.

Reno stayed kneeling by her side, watching her go through the affects of withdrawal and overdose. Truthfully, there was nothing he could do but to just watch, as much as it pained him to see her in such a suffering state; suffocation while her body tried to contain all the chemicals inside her.

With a terrible, defeaning gasp, her esophagus finally opened and she sucked in a breath of air, glossy eyes opening to blurred vision. She twisted, her upper torso hanging off the edge of the couch as her body demanded more air, coughing and gagging brutally.

Licking his lips and trying to swallow, Reno brought his hands around her shoulders, pressing her up against his chest as she shook uncontrollably.

One side of him wanted to shake her with such frustration of her going out alone and taking up a mere amateur person for her fix, but yet, another part wanted nothing but to cradle her until this was all over. Far too many times had he seen his clients decay over time, or even within one fix. To him they were just cockroaches to begin with, though he knew that he wasn't any better than them. He was manifesting the problem on the streets. Maybe it would do Midgar all the better if he did one day overdose on his own products.

Moving was futile; her limbs weren't very responsive, moving with that same sensation of bricks being tied to her limbs, and she couldn't quell the shaking. Where she was, and where the urchin had gone was far from her mind. She needed this poison out of her, and the pressure in her chest to relent.

Climbing onto the couch with her pressed against him, Reno placed her back down upon the broken down cushions, his arm still wrapped around her as the other balanced his body. Long, lanky frame draped over hers as he held her tightly, making sure her breathing was constant. He dared not look into her eyes and see the vacant doll expression. That alone was too much for him. Instead, his chin rested near her shoulder, her body pressed up against his, and his breathing nearly as ragged as hers.

The minutes ticked by, but Reno stayed where he was, afraid she'd stop breathing if he separated from her, that he'd been too late getting to her. Each minute that passed, the heaving of her chest being absorbed his own, he thought about the filthy street urchin that got them here, and everything he would do to retaliate for every minute that he'd taken from her life, and sinking in the tiny sense of comfort at the misery the bastard would feel.

Almost an hour passed, but she was still breathing and coughing, every minute making Reno's muscles ache with strained anticipation. Disappointment, resentment, frustration, fear, each picked away at his psyche in sharp fragments. How could she have done this?

Harsh gasp after harsh gasp, each chased by wracking coughs, her lungs began to regulate a pattern. Her throat burned from the bile and the coughing, and she could taste the blood in her mouth as a result. Her heartrate began to pick up speed once more, beating in sporadic intervals, but resuming the carriage of blood through her once more, none the less. The pressure was replaced by a different kind, lighter, warm. Like someone was pressed against her.

Hazy eyes began to clear, fearing the urchin was above her, and she had no idea what he'd done to her, or how long she'd been out. All she saw was a darkened ceiling above, vaguely familiar. Panic claimed her, and she began to jerk beneath the weight, strangled cries ripping from her damaged throat.

"No! Get the fuck off me! _No!_" Hadn't she asked him to call Reno? He'd be there any minute, she was sure of it. Maybe he didn't call. Maybe he'd tricked her into thinking she'd get help. Oh Christ. She'd done it now. "_Reno!_" The word hitched at the last syllable, coughs wracking her body again, and blood gathering in the creases of her lips.

Once the writhing started to transpire underneath him, he ceased his grip on her only when her remarks started to turn into straight out yells.

"Aerith!" he said sternly, lifting himself off her only slightly but pressed his hands down along her shoulders to keep her from over exerting herself. "Calm down! It's me. It's me."

He repeated the last two words a few times, however many it took to get her to stabilize her bearings. He didn't blame her, for as far as she could remember everything might as well have been a blur. Her body was literally in a comatose state and now, finally, coming back to life.

Though it was one thing to see her thrash out against him, at least she was finally coming to and he could quit worrying about the consequences she'd put herself in. Although, he knew inwardly she wasn't out of the woods yet. There was still plenty that could go terribly wrong, but the Turk had to remind himself that she wasn't like any ordinary person. She came back from the life stream and was essentially still one with the planet. A whole subspecies herself.

His leg fitted between her own thighs as he pushed his lower torso against her, aiding to pin her down so she didn't direct any harm to him or herself in the process of coming to.

The coughs subsided, and Aerith had to blink several times to register the face above her, a sense of comfort immediately coating her at its familiarity. Reno. His couch. His ceiling. Focused, intense sea colored eyes set on her.

"Reno." She shuddered, but it was impossible to tell if it was still the effects of her physical state or the sound of her own frightened voice straining to speak his name.

How she got here, and how he found her... she had no idea. Nothing was clear, and she drew her brows together as she tried to remember anything with any semblance of clarity. Just tense, angry words came to mind. Everything hurt, her lungs, her chest, her stomach felt tumultuous with acid, her head pounding from those minutes without oxygen.

And then fear set in, displacing her momentary comfort. She knew what she'd done.

_He_ knew what she'd done.

Here she lie, half dead on his couch, and still her body fought for her life. The murmurs of her struggling heart made her gasp every few seconds, as though her entire body momentarily halted without her permission before starting up again. Opiates. God damn opiates. She should have known. And she knew there would be a lot more to pay for it than just this.

"Where is.. that son of a bitch...?" she rasped out between ragged breaths. Clearly, the overdose hadn't completely run its course yet. "How did you...?"

Once she finally she started to comprehend what was happening around her, Reno let off her shoulders and placed himself to full height along the couch. No need to press her down any longer, she could finally make some sense of it all.

"Your friendly neighbor called me.. And I got you." He kept it vague, for, as far as she knew, that man was dead. But oh no, not yet. He would wait on good timing to track the bastard down and show him exactly the pain he'd exerted on Reno without even noticing.

Though he was relieved to have her actually speaking in normal terms now, there was still that degree of frustration, trying keeping his composure as calm as he possibly could. No need to make her go into another panic attack if he chose to unleash his words of 'wisdom' at her.

"… Not a good deal darlin'," he said calmly, almost too nonchalant, at that. "But the boy had some guts in him to call, I'll only credit him on that. By now if you were still there... you'd be dead." Bending down he gathered up the used needle and the worn leather date book. Fingers grabbed the zipper as he zipped it up and placed it calmly down on the coffee table. "Nothin' to do now but relax or you're in for another ride that I might even not be able to go through."

Turning towards the kitchen he placed the used needle into the sink. He knew better to reuse anything even if she was 'clean' by all means. The man wasn't ignorant at that. With his fingers curling along the edge of the sink, out of her sight, he lowered his head and took a few deep breaths himself. The fact was that she gave him more of a scare than he'd had for a long time; even when it came to missions.

As she watched him walking away, listening to his words with all the ache they inflicted, she found she still had very limited mobility. She was terrified to be left alone, and in a way, even more terrified of what he was implying to her with his carefully subtle words. Her voice failed to call him back, however.

The shaking hadn't stopped, and as the receptors of her body steadily returned to life, she felt a cold sweat forming over her skin and chilling her until her teeth chattered. A low, feral groan rose from deep in her diaphragm and spilled over, tremors beginning in her stomach. She willed her body to turn, but lacking any sense of balance or coordination, she toppled to the floor on her hands and knees. Coughs burst from her once more, tangled brown hair sheilding her face as blood began to drip from her lips like molasses. She wanted to crawl toward the bathroom, but found her muscles refused to cooperate.

The thud on the floor brought Reno's attention back to the living room. Truthfully, this wouldn't be the first time he'd ever witnessed this. "You need to rest, stop moving around, you'll make it worse."

Though her indications weren't hard to tell. Bending down, he grabbed onto one of her arms, lifting her up carefully and applying his support to her frame.

"You're a mess," he said, sighing slightly as he brought her to the bathroom, the checkered black and white floor meeting her knees as he placed her down slowly. He wasn't going to deny what she wanted, there really wasn't much he could do for her until the effects would slowly wear off. Perhaps she would take this into consideration next time she went searching for another fix.

With his body resting on the side of the porcelain tub, he watched her while his elbows rested on his thighs.

It was harder to read him than she'd ever seen, Reno's face shadowed in something she didn't like the look of and couldn't identify. Not that she could blame him under the current circumstances. She wasn't about to go cracking a smile, herself.

"It'll pass.. It always passes," he muttered. For the most part he was glad she'd finally awoken. It was a start, but certainly not a finish. Twisting his body slightly he grabbed a rag that settled on the side of the tub, still damp from the morning rituals of cleaning his face. Lowering his hand, he firmly gripped her chin, bringing her face to look at him and studying her deep set eyes. "Your best bet is to keep your eyes open, even if they may play tricks on you." With the damp rag he wiped away all traces of blood that trickled from her mouth. "But... if you survived a sword through the heart... I'm sure you can pull through with this. Can't you?"

Releasing his hold on her he brought himself so that his back settled against the side of the tub and elbows on each knee cap. Disappointment washed through his senses as he continued to study her.

She stayed quiet as he cleaned her face, barely able to let her eyes meet his every few moments. Gradually, she let her body slump against the wall, wincing with each flash of pain that sliced through her, from her head to her irregularly beating heart.

'Thanks' seemed like the worst possible thing she could say right then. Insulting. Simple, single-word gratitude that she'd dragged him into this undignified cyclone of violent self-destruction, and made him watch every second of it. 'Thanks' was low. 'I'm sorry' didn't seem much better. Her reasons had seemed fairly sound when she'd made the decision, and now... she didn't know what to believe about herself.

"You... seen anyone die this way?" she asked, her eyes cast downward, to the corner of the tub beside him. She was ashamed to show her fear, that his answer would scare into thinking how close she'd come. Again. And how close she still might be.

Reno gave a sigh, shifting his eyes downwards towards the checkered white and black tiled floor. His hands dangled from the position his elbows were in but he didn't voice what she asked him right away. It took a minute or two to actually formulate the words that escaped from his lips. "If I hadn't... then you'd be dead right now. Experience comes with practice."

Once she glanced back up to his face, and the expression of hurt and disappointment that drove daggers through her, she knew her fear of death didn't even matter at this point. "I fucked up."

His eyes met up with her glazed ones, her makeup smeared along her face, and the sluggish way her straps fell from her thin shoulders. She did look like one who would dabble in drugs; she looked like some of his customers.

"Yeah, you did. You did fuck up real good. You have any idea how _close_ you came to death? Oh, well... you would know, wouldn't you? You witnessed it before... didn't you? Thought it would be real nice to return, eh?" Those fingers that freely dangled slowly coiled into fists. "You are so damn lucky... _so_ damn lucky." A large exasperated heave came from his lips as he tried his best to send those fingers out of their defensive state. He felt like getting up and leaving her there on the floor, but he knew better. "Tell me when you are finished on this floor. I'll take you to the bedroom." Those words weren't as clipped as before. Anger wasn't going to get him very far but he still had that redhead temper on him. He had every right to be like this, and he kept repeating that same phrase in his mind. Oh, he was sure she learned her lesson, but it didn't stop him from trying to deal with his.

It was the wrong time, the worst time, but the pain brought on by his personal words, their venom meant to cut her to the quick, only flared her own defenses. The tremors ignited once more, and a fit of shivers whipped through her again, nausea making a raucious threat before idly subsiding.

"Y-yeah. I'm done." Her words were thin, shy of the emotion she couldn't quite muster the energy to expel just yet. She lifted a hand to wipe at her eyes, a meek attempt at cleaning away the mess she knew she was. Never had Reno looked at her like such a piece of trash. But then those defenses came tumbling out before she could stop them. "But... fuck, Reno... this is the life you choose to lead, isn't it? You do everything that I can't, it seems." The sound of her own voice made her nearly get sick again, hoarse and broken. Not hers at all. "You shut me out from it. Just... like nothin'. After... _fuck_... the only time I ever _really_ felt like you..." What a pathetic statement that was turning out to be. It was a drug-induced haven. Maybe she'd been fooling herself about it the entire time.

"Shut you out? _Shut_ you out?" he repeated angrily. "What the hell does that mean? I was tryin' to protect you! You think I'm … really proud of this life? No, I'm not. I never _have_ been. If it wasn't for ShinRa and--" He bit his tongue before carrying on. ".. It doesn't matter. This may be _my_ life but... I'd like you to be part of it for awhile." His voice only increased in volume as he continued. "Don't you realize what you -- What could have happened if my phone was off? If I didn't respond? .. _Where would that leave me?_"

Every word seeped into her, making her heart quicken with every sound that passed his lips and bit right into her. Oh, but she was just as selfish as he, wasn't she? But everything, the double standards, the hypocrisy, she fell under its black grip from time to time and wanted nothing more than to hurt him with everything he hurt her with, even if he didn't know he was doing it. But what kind of person did that make her? This was what she'd chosen for herself. Words were lost on her. She almost knew what he'd been about to say before he'd cut himself off. At least, she knew what she'd say if the situation had been reversed. _Don't you realize what you almost took from me? _

With his palm down on the cool texture of the tile, Reno heaved out yet another frustrated sigh of air. There had been one time that Reno overdosed. But that was back when nothing mattered anymore. Everything was gone, he had nothing to live for, the world was crashing down before anyone knew it would be stopped. Death, as far as he was concerned, was a good outlet. He made sure to overdose, only to be cradled in the arms of Elena with Rudo by his side and pulled back. It was then that he learned that death wasn't the answer. But this wasn't the case, she didn't intend on overdosing. She was just caught with an amateur that knew jack shit about what he was dealing with.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to do this?" Well, he just answered himself, hell, look how he was reacting just now. ".. I didn't want you to do this so you wouldn't _be_ like me. Don't you get it? I'm not proud.. "

"I know..." she muttered, her eyes fallen to the black and white tiles.

Shaking his head he focused hard on one spot along the floor, his body rocking back and forth. "Forget it." Pushing himself up he only bent down to gather her in his arms, that same supporting role as before. "You need rest...this isn't helping." Hell, he'd probably make her heart go into a jump start again.

Like a ragdoll, her limp and slight form followed easily with his support, and she let him lead her toward the bedroom, words beginning to form themselves in desparation.

"I know..." She groaned, tears of frustration burning her eyes, but blinking them away just as quickly before he saw them. "I know," she repeated, dragging her legs to move step by aching step, "...that you aren't proud. I didn't mean... I just wanted... fuck, I don't know... I don't know what I wanted. Just... to be part of this... part of... You let me in _once_... and then never again without a word. You hurt me. But... I didn't do this to... not like this."

Could she really say she hadn't meant to hurt him back? She hadn't meant to let it get this far, but it was what happened, and now she couldn't take it back. And like that, bitterness resurfaced, spawned from her own stupid behavior, but escaped without form. "I just fucked up. You're right. Just fuckin' forget it."

When aiding her to the bedroom he shut his mouth, daring not to speak anymore. Wouldn't get him anywhere to begin with. He'd spilled all that he wanted to for the evening. He'd gotten his point across just the same as she did hers. When settling her finally on the side of the bed, he shoved the comforter sheets aside, and finally spoke again.

"I let you in and found the mistake I did in doing so. You asked, I complied. I made my own mistake. I fucked up there. I guess that makes us even doesn't it?" Holy God, did he need a smoke. "I- Didn't want you to become what you obviously are now. Don'tcha see? Can't you see? _This_.." he sprawled out his hand to gesture her state of appearance, only his hand swept to the mirror that was on his door. "_That_, is what I didn't want to see."

It was her reflection no doubt; ragged and vulnerable. Her reflection, almost the same as she'd seen in the urchin's eyes before the cataclysm began, the halves of herself split down the middle only visible to her...

But this time the eyes shone that of betrayal on both sides. Lesson learned. This is what she'd done, to him, and to herself. Of all the things she'd done, all the times she'd called herself an idiot for not knowing better, this was the lowest she'd ever felt, and the most idiotic she'd ever been for doubting something that had been there all along. His reaction tonight demonstrated just how completely irresponsible she'd been with the both of their lives.

"Get your rest. You need it… you jeopardized your body." Digging into his pocket, he brought out his cigarette, finding his Zippo soon after. He didn't bother to hear what she had to say next, he didn't want to, for that matter. Stubborn or just sick of the words that were being brought out between the both of them, he decided to call it quits and seek solace in his cigarette.

Footsteps made their way down the corridor until ceasing at the window in the living room. That balcony on the other side looked oh, so inviting as he threw the sash up and climbed out into the inviting breeze. It was cool on his moist skin, mostly from the frustration and the stress he was battling with. Thoughts processed in his mind of the day's events, and instantly he wondered if his partner got home safe. The thoughts of loved ones flooded his mind, all because he'd almost lost one once more this very night.

Falling asleep probably wasn't the wisest idea, but, back in the bedroom, as she lie there on her side - on this very bed she'd known so well under such drastically different circumstances - she watched herself in the mirror until her eyes finally closed once more. The image was committed to memory. A reminder, the same as the scars on her chest, and embedded on her weakened heart.

Quiet, shallow breaths, her body was the stillest it had been in hours, praying that there would be some way the both of them could forgive her for her missteps until sleep took her completely.

* * *

Two cigarette buds balanced dangerously on black chipped railing of his apartment balcony. The wind picked up and tossed one off the side, leaving the other to teeter at an alarming rate. He watched that lone cigarette roll side to side, its sides misshapen from his teeth as well as his fingers when he'd crushed it to squeeze the last ember out of it. Heaving out a sigh, and the last remains of his smoke filled lungs, he shifted his body downwards and slipped through the window. When turning to lower the sash, he noted the cigarette gone along the railing. The wind had taken it away finally.

Lowering his eyelids he rested his body on the armchair, kicking off his shoes in the process and shedding his jacket for the first time of the night. A few buttons were removed from his shirt before he shed his pants. He thought about sleeping on the couch, but found it wasn't his bed, it wasn't where he felt safe. Though he probably would never admit it to her, the only time he actually got any good sleep was when he heard her breathing beside him. Even though he was mad at the moment when he left the bedroom, it didn't affect the feelings he still held for her.  
Shrugging off his shirt, he turned off all remains of any source of light in his apartment before finally finding his way back to his room. His frame froze as he watched her stilled body, before convincing himself he indeed saw the rise and fall of her chest along her side.

Silently, save for the rustle of sheets, he slithered by her side, though there was no hesitation as he weaved his arm around her body, tightly holding onto the only thing the really mattered in his world. The only thing that could be so easily taken away from him.

* * *

Note: Reno's part was written by my very dear friend... er... Reno. Based from a roleplay.


	23. 074 Pain

074. Pain

"How long will this last?"

The question was quiet. Curious. No accusation.

"It's lasted this long, ain't it?"

The answer was hesitant, uncertain. The question clearly hadn't been anticipated.

"You don't plan for anything too far, do you?" The words left her lips molded by a smile, eyes of absinthe turning up to meet his liquid turquoise gaze from where she lie perched on his bare chest.

He ran a hand through her chocolate locks, tilting his head and stretching up his free arm until his head rested atop it. His smile was one she wasn't used to seeing. Tentative, timid. Of course, the ever-present wariness that she was taking this conversational path once again shone through. His secrets were becoming clearer to her all the time.

"I'm a Turk, remember?" A question for a question. "Nothin' lasts that long in my neck of the woods, darlin'. No time for plans."

Even his words were laced with purpose. He didn't want to talk about it.

Aerith knew it. She usually let Reno get away with it, after some teasing.

In that moment, however, it had finally crushed her with its increasing weight. "You didn't expect me to stay so long."

Not a question, but an affirmation as she looked away and gave the wall a thousand-mile stare.

Reno swallowed, then painted a smirk over it. "Gave you a plastic ring, didn't I? Knew you'd never be able to stay away."

Aerith smiled against his skin and turned her head to look at her left hand. The ring wasn't on, but there was a faint tan line from its presence. Like the ring, their entire marital union only existed in jest. Legal, it was, that much was true. She never wore the ring anymore. Too many prying eyes.

They never spoke of their marriage except to snipe at each other with sugar-glazed quips. It was a claim based on a mutual fear of abandonment. A gun, heavy and automatic, only to be used in case of the apocalypse.

Is that what she'd been waiting for? Another end of the world?

She pressed both hands against the mattress on either side of his lanky, pale body, and pushed herself up to press a kiss to his waiting lips.

"We are such children," she murmured against his kiss, "Never to grow up unless an order is issued for it."

His eyes bore into hers.

She pulled back to allow him to stare at her that way, to offer him the privilege of giving her this warning.

She stared back, unapologetic. There was no reverence in her gaze.

"I'm growing up. You're strapping yourself to stasis, Tiger. Safety in your orders no matter how violent."

His red brows drew close, his lips pressing together angrily.

She didn't let him speak yet, and graced his furious mouth with another kiss. "I can only say it so many times before I hit my limit. It's there. It's yours. You just have to decide what to do with it. Maybe it wouldn't hurt anymore if..."

Trailing off, she stood and snagged her dress from off the floor, along with her gun.

He didn't speak. It wasn't like her to play mind games with him. She would always tell him anything, no matter how abrasive the questions he asked. Before he could consider whether or not she was sampling a new tactic, she was at the door to his bedroom, her back to him. She was dressed, he realized, and it startled him how much time must have passed while he'd chewed on his ambivalence.

"We don't deserve this," she was whispering. "Or maybe... I've outgrown you without realizing it."

And she was gone.

* * *

A/N: Yes, loves, it's been a long time. I wanted to say that there is no reason to panic. From here on out, I think I'm going to take a more linear approach to the relationship of Aerith/Reno and perhaps... give them a little closure. I've tortured them quite enough. Thanks for enduring. Leave me a note. I'll love you forever.


	24. 075 Bubble

075. Bubble

She didn't spend every night at his house, so why was it so quiet?

Why did the walls carry longer shadows that he never noticed before?

Maybe he was bored. Maybe he was letting his mind wander where it ought not to. Whether it was any of those possibilities he didn't know. All he knew was the cigarette burned couch was quiet without another sharing its worn down springs.

Reno's left fingers itched at his pant leg, holding a cigarette in between. Where was the candy apple Zippo? Oh... yeah, that's right.

It was part of the reason why he was feeling so damn restless. The night where she quoted the words 'maybe I've outgrown you' really stung now. At first he passed it off as just another simple phrase that they slung in torturing each other. But now it was night seven.

Never had she been away this long, unless there was some drastic reason involved. But he saw her every day now at work-- at least the times he could slip away into the labs or the cafeteria.

What had he done exactly? Or... was it something he hadn't done? The days when they were together seemed like any other to him. He hadn't done anything he normally didn't do when she was around in his company. Why did everything change now?

With his teeth lashing down at his bottom lip he got up from the couch, grabbing his jacket and lazily sliding it on. No use sitting around and stewing. He never was one to do that, right? With a quick shut of the door and a pocket full of gil he was out the door and down the creaking stairs. Time to figure out this mystery.

------

She'd watched him leave work that day.

One week later and she'd successfully managed to avoid making eye contact, much less conversation.

The void was draining, but she'd expected that. He'd probably failed to realize that she'd meant what she said. The idea had made her chuckle humorlessly, even as she'd walked toward his vacant office.

She'd left her red Zippo on his desk. Why had she done that? She was giving him a crumb that she didn't quite feel he deserved, and it would give her less credibility. But maybe he'd understand its significance when he came back to work and found it there. She was still there. He was still under her skin, and he needed to know that. He needed to know that he still had a chance if he chose to do something with it. But it was all she would give.

Now she stood outside her condemned apartment building thinking that she was an idiot. Reno would never change, even if she desperately wanted to believe it wasn't so.

Fuck, she needed distraction. A fight, maybe. Yeah, there was a good, healthy solution to dealing with her problems. She rolled her eyes at herself and stormed away from the building, to the first godforsaken shithole dive she could find.

----

Three bars later, Reno was already starting to feel a bit better. There were minor thoughts drifting through his mind but he quickly pushed them back with a slosh of burning liquid down his throat. This time around he refused to sit at the bar; instead he went towards a drab little area in the back. There wasn't much commotion in the bar tonight and honestly he didn't think he could stomach it in the first place. He hit Goblins on the south side of Midgar first. He made sure to order his strongest drink before carrying on to other bars. This one wasn't known for their pure alcohol but the usual crowd that always ran through with conversations of interest. Here, though, he didn't feel like conversing with anyone.

----

Aerith shoved her way through the door and immediately spotted the bar. Had she been to this place before? Hell if she remembered. Glaring at the bartender, she slapped a hand on the wooden top.

"Whiskey. Three fingers. Not Irish. Any-fuckin'-thing but Irish."

Reno's eyes focused on the watermarked table in the booth, his drink next to him now half empty. There was a familiar voice obscured by the noise in the bar but he didn't bother to look up. It was a young woman's, but at this point he didn't feel like bothering to see her. The transition of confusion was settling through him and for right now he hated all members of the opposite gender.

He was sure he didn't do anything to make her to leave him. It was all her.

In his right hand he crumpled up an empty packet of cigarettes, looking up only to see if he could bum one from the bartender. It was then he noted the familiar black dress and long brown hair to match. Instantly he grabbed a menu on the side, propping it up so that he could conceal the brightness of his hair that set off alarms anywhere he went. This was his chance to figure out if she would spill anything to anyone. He wasn't going to miss it.

Aerith's stare didn't wavered from the glass that was placed in front of her, oblivious to her surroundings, including the Turk with electric red hair that was now cowering behind a menu a few yards away. A Turk that she normally wouldn't have missed anywhere had it not been for her distraught state.

How much time had passed, she wasn't sure. The whiskey tasted like shit. Damned if she was going to admit that she'd aqcuired a taste for the Irish stuff and nothing else was satisfactory, however. Fuck that. She didn't even think she could drink it; her throat was tight, it hurt to breathe, but she passed it off as her body simply telling her that this whiskey was the evidently the bane of the devil.

_The devil_.

Her eyes clouded and she furiously blinked to clear them. "God damn it."

"Hey there, beautiful," a low voice rasped in her ear. "Who are you cursing about, and can I knock him out for you?"

Slouching in the booth with the menu in front of him, Reno couldn't help but move the corner in just slightly to get a full view of Aerith from one aquamarine eye and sneer at the man that was talking to her.

Aerith groaned inwardly, bowing her head and running a hand roughly through her dark hair. She lifted her other hand to haphazardly wave in dismissal. "Please. Just... don't."

She could practically feel the guy's brow furrowing in a way that might have been comical under less tragic circumstances. Her jaw twitched impatiently.

"You seem so lonely here," the poor bastard continued. "Thought you could use some company. Talk to me, sweetheart. I can be a friend."

Aerith bristled at 'sweetheart' and finally turned to look at the unwelcome guest beside her. She sighed.

He was young, good-looking, sandy blond hair and ice blue eyes. It was too bad she just didn't give a shit.

"Look, I appreciate it, sugar," she said with a shake of her head, "but I just... go find someone else. I'm sure you'll have no trouble."

The backhanded compliment, apparently, only encouraged him. She winced when he spoke again, genuine concern suddenly filling his voice.

"You sure you're alright? You look pretty keyed up."

Reno fought back an outright snarl at this chump's sugar-coated _helpfulness_. Like _that _was going to go anywhere. He knew Aerith wasn't one to soak in a fake approach. Well... he would hope so. He never really saw her in the company of other males when with him. Was it that protective nature, or was it the possibility he never just really took her out anywhere to begin with? But they knew the precautions of their relationship; it wasn't his fault... but maybe this was one of the flaws she seemed to think about him.

Buying time to think up another polite brush-off, Aerith's fingers tightened around the glass and she threw it back, fighting a grimace at its abrasive path down her throat. Then she signaled for another.

"I'm fine," she grumbled. "I'm... fuckin'... he's just..." She hardly realized she was gripping her empty glass tightly enough to nearly make it shatter. "I'm trying hard to erase years of pain and heartache, and you're just... interrupting."

"Tell me about him," the stranger said softly. "I'm sure he's not worth all this."

He touched her face before she could stop him and Aerith balked in horror when she realized that his finger had come away wet with a tear.

Reno couldn't resist momentarily entertaining images of the numerous ways he could remove that finger from its owner.

It was nearly a minute before Aerith was able to find her voice again, and only after tossing back the second raucous helping of that god awful whiskey. "He is worth... he _was_. He never... we hurt each other. That's it. I was a joke to him. And I was mean to him, too, but at least I always told him... all those years, that god damn plastic ring, and never once did he tell me... I just don't want to be a fucking joke anymore."

As she carried on into the conversation with the nosy man, Reno realized that it went deeper than just his lack of going places with her. The narcissistic part of him, however, purred pleasantly in his chest knowing she did miss him.

"Tseng was right about him," he heard Aerith mumble suddenly. "He tried to tell me."

His hand gripped his glass. Who the hell was Tseng to tell her about their private matters? Not like he publicly announced anything he did with Elena... well, that was a lie. But still, this was not justice!

Aerith realized she'd started talking way too much, but the words just kept coming and she found she didn't feel like stopping. "But there were moments, you know? Good, beautiful times... and I believed that he... I really did. I think maybe at one point it was true, but... how long can you really go without knowing for sure, you know? I never needed diamonds or flowers or any of that shit, but... I wanted it to be real for him, too. And instead, I just... let things go on... it was always the job, the junk, the women..."

It all came down to one thing. Well a series of words, really. Reno never thought he could utter those words... hell, he was afraid to. Was that the demise in the end? Did it really come down to his not saying three words that had ruined it all? Hadn't he always shown her instead of saying it? Wasn't it enough? He couldn't get himself to say those words only because he was afraid something, like some goddamn omen in the mist, would end it all. But now it seemed that it did the exact opposite. Not saying what he felt had made it crumble. Everything he ever announced he loved in such certain terms fell through his grasp. He'd banished that word a long time ago, but in the end it was all the same outcome, apparently.

Blinking rapidly, Aerith shook her head. "Look, you're sweet, and I'm talkin' your ear off, but believe me when I say that now it takes more than just charm and smooth words, and... aquamarine eyes..."

She never noticed that the poor guy beside her was staring at her in discomfort and palpable confusion. His eyes were pale blue. "Ah... my eyes are..."

"I gotta go," she interrupted quickly, dropping a few bills on the counter and darting out the door before he could coax her into talking anymore. She'd said too much, and now she was going to just walk home. Drunk. Alone. Brilliant, considering what happened the last time she'd stumbled into her bedroom and found a surprise waiting for her behind the door.

Licking his dry lips, Reno watched her take her leave, fumbling out of the booth then and making his way towards the door. Only he stopped and turned around sharply, almost _too_ sharply, and stumbled over to the man who was so inclined to play the hero for a vulnerable woman.

He lifted one finger at him merely inches from his face, only to drop it and shake his head. "… Nice try.. but she ain't weak like the chicks you prey on.. Next time I catch you pullin' that shit.. don't expect some advice in return." He gave him the bird before tripping his way out the door, though somehow gracefully swept into an alleyway to avoid sight.

-------

The air carried his fragrance.

Aerith growled under her breath, quickening her pace along the damp sidewalk as she passed through the glow of a streetlight. She was going out of her mind, tricking herself into believing that she could hear the familiar, almost soundless shuffle of his steps, the sound of his breath as it passed through his throat, and his scent tickling her nose. But this was the first step of a separation, wasn't it? It had been a long time since she'd been through this, and though the last time had been far more dramatic and gory, this was exponentially more gut-wrenching. Reno was still in the world, probably getting drunk or making his rounds at the Honey Bee. He existed, and he could do it without her, probably with great ease.

At least the joke wouldn't be on her anymore.

Reno, several paces behind her, was watching her as carefully as he could. He stuck to the shadows in case she turned around, wondering if her quickening steps and audible groan meant that she'd sensed him behind her. She was probably too out of it to really care, he figured, and progressed quietly.

Her boots made heavy thuds on the pavement, all of her usual grace abandoning her, as was fitting. She didn't want to go home, and she was drawing out this walk, uncaring that there was a person, or people, treading the street a ways behind her. It was Midgar; pedestrians crawled over the city's night like rats until dawn.

She wanted to go to his place. In spite of herself, she knew he was probably at least thinking about her--cursing her name, maybe--but she knew he wasn't a heartless bastard, much as she wanted to believe it to make herself feel better. There was so much she needed to tell him, secrets that she'd locked away and it gnawed at her soul that she'd never uttered a word. But then... he'd never asked. He'd shrug it off as respect for her privacy. Bullshit. He was terrified. But she'd been a coward herself, and she couldn't deny that any longer.

Swallowing hard, she turned a corner that would lead her to a familiar street. She didn't know what she'd do when she got there. Probably wouldn't even have the nerve to step foot inside. Instead of thinking on it, however, she busied herself with plucking a cigarette from her jacket pocket and then fishing around for her Zippo. Oh. Right. Her hands found the cheap, plastic disposable lighter she'd snagged in the bar and shook her head before lighting the end of the stick.

Despite his own bit of inebriation, Reno knew exactly where she was going. The more she traveled towards his place the more that greedy little monster in his chest purred. Though, seeing her in this fit didn't help the fact he wanted to show her that he missed her in return. She was having a battle with herself, he could tell. The same one he was having as the days went by with no word from her, no call, no mere glance into his office during his work days, no nothing. Nothing but those words that kept repeating in his head.

_Maybe I've outgrown you_.

Sure, he could beat himself up about this. He did for a good number of days before it progressed into anger. Just the mere signs of grief even if he refused to believe that's what he was experiencing. In a way, he felt she deserved this torture she was inflicting on herself. Deep down, he knew it was entirely his fault to begin with, but he stubbornly wasn't ready to accept that yet, not now at least. Those moments when he realized he was truly at fault, he quickly diverted his attention elsewhere. A prime reason to get drunk with the men in his office, a reason to watch some porno flick only to create a lust that couldn't be satisfied. He knew his low points when it came down to having nothing to successfully rid the feeling in his stomach and heart.

He'd wait until she entered his complex to really figure out why she was here. Of course he knew it, but he wanted to witness it for himself. It would make him feel wanted, that she truly did miss him... or love him for that matter. He didn't really know what to expect from her when she would knock on his door to find no answer in return. No thousand clicks of locks and chains to counter those raps.

The smell of her cigarette that wafted back toward him almost made him sick, only because he remembered those lips that once spilled the smoke into his.

Licking his lips once more, he made sure to keep himself well hidden in the shadows, knowing well that he wouldn't follow her into the hallway of his floor. Those steps would reveal his presence; he would wait outside knowing well she wouldn't enter his house.

----

His door looked ominous, not at all inviting the way it once had.

This wasn't her home anymore. It never was, but once upon a time, she'd thought it as such. Another of the things she never told him... but chances are he knew her feelings on that front.

Aerith's hands were shaking, her pale fingers barely able to keep the last bit of her cigarette from dropping to the floor. Should she be here? Of course not. Could she stay away? She'd have to. But she needed to clear her conscience first. _Tabula Rasa_, and all that shit.

Her knuckles rapped sharply on the door before she could talk herself out of it, and she sucked on the last of her cigarette like it was the last breath of life in her.

A minute passed. Nothing. Another knock. Two minutes. A hundred scenarios flitted through her mind. He might not have been alone in there. He might be out, as she expected, getting trashed and laid, making good use of that Honey Bee membership card he prized almost as much as his goddamn helicopter.

A half-sob, half-laugh escaped from her lips, and then she whispered with her forehead pressed against the door. "I just... wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I... Because I did some awful things, and you're not here... so I can't... tell you. I'm thinking of leaving ShinRa, too... I can't be there and see you..." She pushed herself away and braced herself to walk away. This would be the last time, she was certain of it. "Just... be happy. Goodbye, Reno."

He listened though he could only manage to hear a few muffled sobs, but he knew she was saying her goodbyes to the scuffed marks of the door. His gut twisted suddenly.

Pushing away from the door, she made her way back onto the street, one step at a time away from her life, her heart heavy.

Once she took step outside the complex he strode out from the foyer, onto those crumbling steps of white painted brickwork. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing seemed to emerge. It was a cold day in hell when Reno was speechless. Biting his lip her steps started to gain ground before he finally raised his arm, sweeping it to rub the back of his neck then after.

"…Did you forget something?" he blurted out finally, knowing well that wasn't the words he intended to say.

His voice stopped her cold. Oh god. It became a whole different story with him actually being there. Part of her had wished that she wouldn't have to do it in person, and she ducked her head in shame at her cowardess.

"…Isn't that the only reason why you're here?" Again, not really what he wanted to say but his heart was no longer leading the way, it was his mind. "I mean... hell, didn't think you'd be back… kinda gave me the boot a few days ago. I didn't think you left anything behind... couldn't find your Zippo if that's what you're lookin' for." He had no idea that she'd left it on his desk, all he knew was that she used some cheapo one he always managed to buy at the store. His posture was rigid, nothing of that lax demeanor shown through of what he was all about. His fingers dug into the flesh of his neck, creating half crescents in their wake. He wasn't sure what to do with himself right now, he never felt so nervous in his own skin. It was like meeting a ghost, or... more like meeting her for the first time. Instead he stood by his stairs half wondering if she was even going to turn around. Something in him figured she was only here to truly say her goodbyes.

"Yeah... I did leave something here," she stated in a low voice. "But... it doesn't matter." Finally, she mustered the courage to turn around. Just for one last glimse of his fiery hair and sea-green eyes, a parting indulgence that she would take selfishly.

"You're not... out tonight," she said, dumbly. "I mean... not really. I figured..." She shook her head. That wasn't going to lead anywhere good. She took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry that I... that I just walked out like that. But we both know that this wasn't going to last forever. You said so yourself. You're a Turk. You know where you belong." She swallowed and offered a smile that she didn't feel. "Goodnight, Reno."

He could have yelled. He could have explained WHY he wasn't out tonight but what was the reason why she was here? There had to be something more than just saying goodbye. She did that the night she walked out without a glance behind her. So instead he was going to go fishing for answers, not compliments that he enjoyed so much.

"I might have said that, but why now? I'm not dead in the ground, am I? We've been through much more than this.. Why did you just walk out the door after… after... " He glanced around, for some reason he couldn't say the word when it so easily slid off his tongue before. "I guess that was just your way of saying goodbye? Figured that I would have enough consideration to just give you a quick pick me up before headin' out? Some sort of favor?" He was really going back now to that night, hell he had plenty of nights to mull over it. "Why?" Damn, was he saying that word over and over again. By now his hands slumped to his side and it seemed the whole world stopped. Everything was dead quiet except for his breathing that started to escalate for some reason he wasn't sure. So was his heart rate.

"What do you want me to do now?" He knew the answer before he spoke it. But how could he go on with it when everything was starting to boil underneath his skin? You don't walk out on a person. Come to think of it he always walked out on the various encounters he had. All those nameless women who were told to pick up their clothes and leave by morning... or it was the other way around? He always left on them. And with this thought he brought his eyes directly into her own emerald ones. "When did I ever walk out on you?"

Aerith faltered for a moment, torn between outright rage and doubt. When had he ever walked out on her? She was shaking, her eyes gleaming with emotion that was ready to boil over. "You didn't," she breathed, painfully. "I did, I know... but..."

And then she started to remember why, floods of images and scents and all the times he just dodged the issue of his feelings. "You took me for granted." She stepped closer to him, her eyes narrowing. "I made a mistake for not... doing anything about it. For just letting you come to me after... after all those women, and this plastic piece of shit that was nothing more than a claim on me." She dug out the plastic ring that she'd once adorned in such sweet, secret pride and waved it in front of him. "I just filled some fucking void for you because you can't bear the thought of having to work for it. It was a role anyone could fill, wasn't it?"

Her words were malicious, and she knew in the back of her mind that this wasn't going the way it should. She'd wanted to give him the chance... and now she was just making it worse for the both of them. "I know that we could never have normal, Reno. I didn't want you to run around, introducing me to all your friends as your wife, or anything but, fuck..."

He had never heard her voice this high toward him before. Sure, there were playful banter screams but these were definite words. There was no answer to what she was all saying. It was simple to see that all she said was true. He was utterly lost for words once more, how did she do that exactly?

Angrily, she jabbed a finger into his chest. "I was so _desperately fucking in love _with you, Reno," she ground out between her teeth, inwardly hating the way the words sounded. "And you never even bothered to ask my middle name, for Christ's sake."

The place where she jabbed her finger into his chest stung, but no more than the words that filtered through her lips. "If you don't want the ring, then I'll take it back." He opened his hand, his face blank with expression. "If I wanted your middle name I could pull up your records. If I wanted to know anything about things like that it's given to me with the mere snap of a finger. Maybe I don't _want_ to know all that mundane shit. What I found out about you was deeper than what a printed name tells me on a damn document report. Your right, nothin' is going to be normal with both of us workin' for ShinRa. I'll never have anything normal for a long while. Maybe when I retire at a ripe age of one hundred… but I don't look that far ahead."

She stared at his opened hand.

If she gave it back, that would mean the end of it, for good. Was she really prepared for that? If she kept it, he'd probably just take it as weakness on her part, and think that he could still walk all over her... business as usual. She never wanted to give it back to him. Ever. She'd wanted to keep it, her last token of rememberance. He'd get her beloved lighter in turn. It wasn't supposed to go this way.

Her fingers clenched around the ring, but she didn't put it back in her pocket. She just held it there and dropped her eyes to her tight fist.

Reno waited, not knowing where he was meaning to go with his words. Hell he wasn't sure so he veered course. "If you must know.. I haven't visited the Inn or anything for a long while." It was true; the flesh of another didn't do anything for him anymore. Hell, the closet he got to anything was the porn flicks that flashed across his TV late at night. But honestly, what's in that? A little hand job from himself that's all. Through this all his hand was still reaching out. "… Well?"

"I didn't want to do this," she murmured. "I'm sorry for yelling. I never... I don't want to hurt you," she said, her voice shaking on the word. "I came to tell you that I almost... "And then her brain caught up with her and her confession died on her lips. "You stopped going?" Her eyes softened and she looked up at him. She felt tiny in comparison. Was he always this tall? She licked her lips. "Why?"

His eyebrows rose when she started to confess something but it was instantly cut short when she questioned his actions of not going to the Inn. He gave a shrug, but realized that wouldn't give her any resolution on this.

"I don't really have a reason to," he said straight forward, his fingers clenching over his hand but still holding it despite the strain in his muscles. "Why should I when I had everythin' here? Kinda taken away from me, though... I mean, I could have gone any time this week. Ain't really my fancy." By now his hand traveled back down to his side, pocketing it in his jacket. "Are you really that surprised? I don't go huntin' for tail that much darlin'. I figured you'd know that.. but I haven't really been talkative with anything else .. eh?" He never really went into the days he had off. He didn't do much of anything except make his rounds on his normal areas where trafficking was heavy.

Her expression was pensive as she listened to his explanation, unsure of what exactly he meant by his words. It didn't explain if it was because of her, or was simply a matter of convenience. She felt like too much of a jerk to ask after her irrational tirade.

"Would you like to tell me your middle name?" he asked and for the first time a trickle of a smile edged at the corner of his mouth.

His question brought an unexpected laugh to her lips, even as it sounded strangled and weak. "You'll laugh. It's terrible." She took in his expression and her will nearly broke upon seeing the smile that ghosted over his lips. "Frances."

He smirked. "Hey, you didn't laugh about mine. As retarded as it sounded."

She didn't smile at his crack about their respective middle names. She couldn't.

Despite her dislike for the name, telling him made her feel like she could breathe for the first time in a week. But there was so much more she had to tell him and it was now or never. "Tseng... he knows about us. Maybe you knew that, but... yeah. He, uh... thinks I made a mistake with you." Did she really need to go into any further detail? "We talked one night, and it got me thinking. And then when we had that conversation about you never really planning for me to stick around so long... just made me realize that this could never be anything more than just... passing time until it ends. I was the idiot who got attached." She swallowed. "I realized I don't want to be someone's pass-time."

Reno's eyetic flared just slightly at the mention of Tseng's advice. Instantly, he started to think of wonderful blackmail material, but that was going to be saved for some other time. "When did Tseng ever be the guru on love matchin'? Besides.. that man hasn't had a healthy relationship in decades.. you really think you can get tips off of him? He stalked you for years! Of course he's going to be against one of his Turks to have some sort of relationship with you... he'd say that about all men who came wandering into your life. I heard the details when… "

He stopped. He wasn't going to go into the details of her past. No, Zack was gone and he preferred it to stay that way. "It doesn't matter. If you go on with other people's advice all the damn time.. you're not you. You're someone else that needs opinions before makin' choices for themselves. Can't you see?" Shaking his head he brought on a sigh, his vision to the ground. "You're not just a pass-time. That's .. stupid.. why would I pour so much energy into something that won't matter in the end?" It was apparent that what he said really did affect her. He felt guilty now for mentioning that quote; never did he want her to take it out of context.

"I... was so tempted to do something to hurt you. Something bad." She shuddered at the thought, hoping he wouldn't really question her about what she meant. It didn't happen, so it shouldn't really matter, anyway. "But I couldn't do it, Reno. And then I just got _mad_ because I couldn't, because it was always so easy for you. Maybe you didn't know you were hurtin' me..."

She took a moment to regard him, tilting her head. Then she nodded slowly. "But I think you did. Somewhere deep down. I know you, and you're not stupid. You're just afraid of change, like we all are." The words were spoken softly. She didn't want to cause anymore hurt for either of them. It was hard enough as it was.

No, he really didn't understand how on earth he was hurting her. He carefully picked through his mind to revisit a night where he purposely hurt her. His mind was warped on the physical torture of a person, not an emotional one. Reno didn't manipulate people by the thought process of how he could damage them inside, it was more of instinct to kill; his turk training, what was brainwashed in him at an early stage. Maybe she knew that but he didn't.

With her jaw set tight, she reached to pull his hand back out to her. Then she placed the ring inside his palm and took a slow, deliberate breath. "Take this back. And when... if... you ever want to give it back to me, I want you to mean it. To _know_ what it means." She met his eyes, not making any effort to mask her trepidation. And more than anything, she wanted him to take that chance. _When _was another matter altogether, but she would wait.

He had thought that mere moment where she laughed a few minutes ago he had finally had a break through. This tense moment could pass, but he was wrong when she reached out and grabbed his hand only to let the small plastic ring fall into it. He closed his palm slowly, searching her for some reason to why she was doing this. It would take him sometime, but maybe then he'd understand. She was right about one thing; he really didn't like change that much. He loved the fact he was well known in his little community of drug dealers. He enjoyed the feeling of authority over others; perhaps why he took on the job of Second in Command without regarding what it really meant.

What did he do?

For a moment, Aerith was sure she could read his mind. Confusion was written all over his face, and the hurt she thought that--maybe--she detected made her want to stake herself through the heart. For a second, she'd never felt more like a monster.

"You'll get it," she choked out, closing her eyes tightly for a moment to stave off an onslaught of unwelcome emotion. When she opened them again, she took another look at him. "One day, you'll figure it out. Then you'll figure out what it is you really want. Maybe you'll decide where I fit in... but until you do..."

She offered him a small smile, and before she could talk herself out of it, she grasped his neck and pulled his lips down to hers. A chaste kiss, not the hard, passionate kind they were so accustomed to sharing. It was soft, and she was slowly killing herself with it.

His brows knitted together but he had no time to react when she drew him into the kiss, which felt like nothing but a polite gesture. It wasn't like the others he took from her, it was simple and to the point. The final case in this little ordeal that he had to go through, questions still unanswered. He still didn't get it. He didn't do anything out of the norm, how can one measly little sentence really fuck things up for him?

Then she broke off just as abruptly and walked away. The glass bubble they'd existed inside of in sacred, private moments shattering a little more with each step.

He just stood there, watching her leave without even a second glance behind her.

How was he going to function at work now? Those times he went passed his office only to see her in there with a smirk, of course it was all for the folder she was holding... at least that was their story. Tseng knew better. He always knew about everything... damn fuckin' hawk with his annoying fucking dot planted square on his head. Reno wanted so desperately to make it into a target for a nice pistol. For now he would blame it on the Dot-man. Not only did it give someone to blame for this, but it granted him some pleasure in knowing he didn't fuck this up entirely on his own accord.

He said nothing while she walked onwards, his fingers fumbling over the plastic ring now inside his pocket.

----

Sleep that night didn't come and when he walked into his office the next day, he found the candy apple zippo planted on his desk. With a growl he grabbed it and pitched it into the waste basket. He didn't want anything to remind him of her. Nothing. This was going to be his clean sweep of it all.

Ten minutes later he was frantically digging through the paper wads in order to retrieve it.

* * *

A/N: Written in role-play style originally, before integrating certain parts for a more smooth flow. Reno was written by my dear friend, of course, who's always game to play along with my ideas. We love him for it.


	25. 076 Weight

**076. Weight**

[Note—this takes place long before the events in the surrounding chapters, 075 and 077, and should not be considered chronological.]

_**Loiter the whole day through...**_

Reno's expression was priceless.

Two feet inside the door, wet from the rain, his stare toward Aerith was nothing short of incredulous. Flabbergasted, appalled, frightened - any might even have been a more suitable description.

"_This_ was so fuckin' urgent?" he blurted out, unconcerned with the possibility of shattering the fragile sensibilities of the other occupants inside the establishment. His finger gave a quick circle in the air, indication to the enemy territory he'd entered. The address she'd given him was unfamiliar, but he wasn't exactly expecting this.

Aerith paused, brows furrowed, lowering the unremarkable white mug back down to the round, wooden table before she'd even taken a sip. "I didn't say it was urgent, I just said I wanted to talk to you."

Lips tugging into an irritated frown, Reno swept a hand through his unruly red locks, begrudgingly shuffling forward, boots scuffing the tan tiles that lined the coffee shop. "What the hell's the difference comin' from a woman?"

Aerith shot him a flat stare.

With a sigh, he sank into the chair across from her at the small table, turning his head to look out the window into the rainy street. The cold of his wet uniform began to sink in and he involuntarily shivered. "Your kinda emo weather goin' on outside. Wanted me to watch you write some poetry?"

"Shut it, Reno," she said through gritted teeth. For a moment, she wondered if this was a mistake. Of course, it wasn't. She knew this, despite how much her ingrained tendencies wanted to convince her otherwise. Glancing toward the counter, she gave a brief flick of her hand. "Can we get another coffee over here?"

Reno turned his head the other way, watching as the only employee in the place, a young blond girl no more than twenty, quickly got to work. His eyes slid toward Aerith. "I gotta get back to work, you know. I came because thought something was wrong."

The brunette before him nodded, emerald eyes dropping to stare in her coffee cup. Somehow this scene seemed familiar. "I know. Something is. Or... well, isn't. That's the point."

He just blinked, waiting for the inevitable moment when something that made sense would come out of her mouth.

Aerith kept him in suspense, waiting for the pretty blond to place the coffee before them, along with a dainty porcelain creamer kettle.

"Thank you, darlin'," Reno said, flashing their server a crooked smile. The girl just offered a curt 'mmhm' and returned to her station.

A smirk formed on Aerith's lips. "I saw you the other night."

"You see me a lotta nights, babe," he replied absently, giving the contents of his cup a thorough once-over. Never knew about these yuppie places and all their crazy ass additives. Ginseng and crack and God knew what else.

"I saw you... with a woman," she explained. "She was pretty. It was dark, so I couldn't tell much more."

Marble aquamarine eyes were suddenly the only thing she felt around her, focused like laser beams.

Reno sat completely still, searching her face for any sign that she was doing what just about every woman would do in this case. Faked smile, eyes narrowed, air of moral high-ground, bitterness, condescension.

There was none of it. She seemed... almost serene.

He tore his eyes away, and looked back to his coffee. Not like she didn't know what he did when he wasn't with her. Did it matter where she'd seen them? Hell, she'd seen the scratches down his back at times. She knew why. It didn't mean he wanted to see the hurt he caused her either way. Though he found it curious that there didn't seem to be any this time around. However, the memory of a few nights prior came to mind.

"That's why you were being so weird the other night," he commented, lifting the cup and sliding a good amount of the dark brew down his throat. His eyebrows drew close, trying to decipher the flavors of this alien coffee. Maybe he was just used to the thick, burnt slop that ShinRa called coffee. Or maybe there was Viagra in here. He gave the blond girl a suspicious glare from the corner of his eye before looking back at Aerith. "And here I thought you were just PMSin'."

Her shoulders deflated as a sigh of air left her lips, shaking her head in amusement. Plush lips curled into a smile and she leaned back in her creaky wooden chair. "I'm telling you this for a reason, you know. Just... shut up for a minute, will ya?"

The redhead put the offending coffee back down on the table and leaned back, as well, giving a nod that he'd attempt to listen.

Now that she had his attention, a shiver of dread tickled her skin. Explaining herself was something she was never good at, but now she was forced to wonder if it was all part of her skewed perception, this habit of immediate discredit.

Her head turned, loose waves of cinnamon coating one side of her, lucid jade eyes slowly appearing brighter as her pupils retracted, drawing in the garishly gray air of the rainy city outside.

"I've done this so many times," she murmured, words weak as she struggled to articulate her thoughts. "I've tortured myself thinking that... there must be something I can't give you, even when you tell me differently. Hell... I know why you do it. We've talked about it a hundred times."

She heard Reno suck in a breath, no doubt in preparation for immediate dispute. She beat him to it. "Just... two minutes. That's it."

He exhaled, the sound cool in her ears, then melding to warmth.

"I was so mean to you the other night. Maybe not outwardly, but... I prodded for you to say something, anything, that would make me feel like none of it mattered. I left that responsibility on you, then profusely apologized. Then did it again, anyway. Played these... passive-aggressive word games."

She stopped to swallow the hard edges of her words, letting her eyes shift back in to the scene playing out before her. His gaze was unreadable. Just calm. The way he'd always been.

"I'm not going to do this anymore." Fervency thickened her words.

It was then his face began to give the barest hint of expression, lips parting just slightly, perhaps a joke on his tongue about how she couldn't leave him even if she wanted to. And that, of course, she'd never even want to. There was a flicker of curiosity, however. At this point, so far into this relationship that had lasted longer than either of them had ever anticipated, she could identify its source, and all the things she'd kept hidden from herself for fear of something. But what?

She lifted a hand to keep him from saying something that would vanquish her velocity if she didn't expel it in the next vital seconds, as though its heartbeat waned like a dying animal at the side of the road. End it quickly, or watch it suffer.

"You've been fair. I haven't been so honest. I'm the cheater, just... not in the typical way, I guess. I let myself think I'd... been the reason all along. I never told you, not really."

"Aerith," he interrupted with a half-groan. He hadn't even realized there was a problem to begin with, and she spoke as though she'd just been the one to poison this foul coffee with arsenic. Not to mention the unease he felt that his lifestyle was about to be critiqued.

"There are a million reasons why," she continued, cutting him off again. "But it's my job to solve them once they've been pieced together one by one. Not yours."

There it was, that elusive answer. Disappointment. Not his, but her own. Death really did change a person, that recurring statement ringing in her ears. Some fears were squandered by it, and others illuminated, solidified, steeled.

Reno pressed his lips together, tilting his head back thoughtfully.

"But I think now that I know this," Aerith said, her voice softening, "I can say for once.... this isn't me being fucked up, or hard on myself. This is me being true to my own worth. This is me being... the person you've wanted around all this time... the one I almost hid away."

Honesty and purity clad in black clothing and the smell of stale cigarettes. Old Aerith was crusted over with layers of lies and self-deception; this Aerith had no such purpose, and chiseled away at the grime, breathing in whatever fresh air seeped through the cracks.

The slouching Turk sighed, shaking his head as he began to lean forward once more. "Ah, darlin', you've never--"

"I know, just let me say this, and then you can go back to work." Back to the way things should be. A smile quirked at the corners of her mouth, the expression dancing its way up to her eyes. No more tension, just liberation. Ease.

For a moment, she found herself looking back out into the rain-pelted street, a phantom's voice brushing against her ear.

_Is this where you want to be?_

"I want you..." she began, turning away from the reverie, and letting the words hang in the air as she pushed her chair back and stood, then skirted slowly around the table. "...as you are. In fact... if things were different, I don't think I'd ever have... known this about myself. Or maybe I'd have learned under worse circumstances." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she straddled his lap, his hands immediately grasping her thighs to brace her. "I guess I want you to realize that I'll never obligate you to be anything more than you are, the same as you've been with me. You don't owe me a thing."

That was as far as she could go, at least in the way of words. There was no easy, or non-gratuitously cheesy way to tell him that he was the only thing healing her heart after she'd gone and broken it on her own. Not the other way around, as she'd led herself to believe all this time.

By now, Reno's mind was beginning to struggle with focusing on her words, and drifting elsewhere, however.

"Well, now I don't think I wanna go back to work," he mumbled, letting his eyes linger down her form to where her body met his, hands sliding up to grasp her hips. Such thin, flimsy fabric between them. "Ain't this a family type place? You're gonna get thrown outta here."

"Focus," Aerith said, mocking sternness. One slender hand grasped his chin and forced him to look at her. "Do you hear what I'm saying to you?"

His face took on a lax demeanor, eyelids half open, cocky smirk ready and waiting just beneath the surface. He'd let her sweat for a minute.

Silence, both keenly aware of the attention they'd drawn from Aerith's less than family-audience oriented antics. No one seemed to complain, however, as the place was fairly slow this time of day, apparently.

Aerith tilted her head in question, but the look on her face didn't waver. No pressure, no insecurities, no second-guessing. Oh, she knew what he would say. He was glad to see it, finally.

"You know it ain't gonna be that easy to get rid of me, darlin'," he told her. Such familiar words, different syllables, but the lightness of her eyes, the lack of surprise, told him this time they'd stuck. "But I'm afraid you're gonna have to walk me home... er... if you don't mind standin' right in front of me on the way."

A grin broke over Aerith's face as she leaned close to offer a rather inappropriate tug on his lower lip with her teeth. "Oh... well, clearly, I've still got it, eh?" Her hips ground into him a little, indicating just what she referred to.

"Nah," he argued, leaning in just enough to return the favor to her full scarlet tier. "That's just the Viagra in that damn coffee."

_**...and lose yourself in lines dissecting love**_


	26. 077 Instrument

**077. Instrument**

[Note: this takes place roughly three weeks or so after the events in 075. Bubble. The chapter between that one and this one, 076, doesn't factor in even remotely, and should, chronologically, be considered long in the past. Things have changed for my favorite couple.]

"What's wrong with him?"

Aerith looked up blankly, blinking a few times at the tall Wutaian that had crashed into her lab office and slammed the door behind him. Deciding that she didn't really feel like dealing with his lack of specificity, she looked back down to her black-topped table. What formula had she been in the middle of writing again? It was getting hard to keep track. Had been that way for days. Maybe weeks. Time didn't really mean much to her anymore.

"I'm talking to you."

"Yes, I noticed."

The grumble that reverberated through the small, sterile room drew her attention again, and she sent a stare identical to her last one up to the intruder.

"What's wrong with him, Aerith?" His voice was hard and flat.

"What are you talking about, Tseng?" She barely noticed how equally monotonous her voice was.

"He missed two days of work. He looks strung out. What is going on?"

Aerith steeled herself against a sharp slice of pain that ripped through her. She'd known who he was talking about since he'd opened his mouth, but Aerith had been vainly clinging to her denial. He was making that impossible. _There's no feeling. There's nothing there. It's all in your head. _

_He missed two days?_

_Stop it. Get over your ego, Aerith._

"I wouldn't know," she muttered, dropping her eyes back to her work. What had she been writing again?

A jarring smack against table top interrupted her thoughts, and she looked blankly up again to see Tseng hovering over her, hands nearly clawing into the surface of her desk.

"He's my best Turk, Aerith. You'd better know. I can't risk him getting himself killed."

"I. Don't. Know." She ground the words out in staccato syllables, clenching her teeth to ward away the emotion that threatened to creep into her voice. _No feeling. No feeling._ "Why don't you ask him?"

His black eyes narrowed. Something was clicking into place for him. "What did you do?"

Gently placing her pencil down across the sheet of paper she'd been trying to comprehend for the last minute or so, she glared at him. "Exactly what you wanted me to."

He backed slowly away from the table, his eyes never wavering from hers. He looked like she'd struck him.

"You ended your affair?"

She bristled at the cavalier word he'd used to describe the last few years of her life. Or maybe it was all in the way he used it. Like she'd been the last one in the party to finally comprehend how utterly insignificant it had been.

"Yes," she forced out as simply as she could. "Now leave, please."

He just stared incredulously.

"Don't tell me you forgot," she said bitingly, shaking her head. "The conversation you so casually roped me into in front of that coffee shop like six months ago?"

She might have smiled at seeing his jaw twitch amidst other circumstances, but there was no humor here. Only disjointed thoughts as she waited for him to remember. _No feeling. In your head._

* * *

_**Six months prior**_

"You're sleeping with him, are you not?"

"Fuck you, Tseng."

She watched as his jaw twitched. He hated it when she cursed needlessly. She smiled her satisfaction, devoid of humor and good nature.

"Your reaction tells me clearly enough," he said, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat. He gracefully crossed one leg over the other, ankle on his knee, no wasted movement. Brutally efficient. "Not to mention that coat of his that you like to wear."

"Is there a point to this?" she inquired through a sigh.

His dark eyes remained stone cold and unchanged, only another twitch of his jaw to reveal the frustration she was eliciting that she wasn't going to let him be tactful. "Why are you wasting your time, Aerith?"

"I'm sorry? Are you... assuming you know something about my personal life after barely talking to me in a year or so?" She cupped a hand behind her ear and leaned forward in a theatrical demonstration that she'd obviously misinterpreted and needed a repeat.

"More than you're willing to admit. Answer the question."

"How the hell do you suppose I'm wasting my time?" she asked incredulously as she resettled herself back into the iron chair.

"He doesn't care for you, Aerith. I think we both just saw that."

She had to take a breath to keep herself from lashing out needlessly. Tseng was not the guilty party. _Of course_ she'd just seen Reno from across the street with that dark-haired woman on his arm that she'd seen a time or two before. His electric red hair was damn hard to miss.

"I don't think you completely underst—"

"I don't think _you_ completely understand, Aerith."

If her eyes could shoot daggers, Tseng would have instantly been speckled liberally and used as a pincushion. She couldn't tell what she hated more; his words, or the fact that his voice never lifted from its smooth timbre of diplomacy.

He drew in a breath, practiced and meticulous. "I know that it's been going on for a while. I know that you haven't been seeing anyone else."

Her stare didn't waver, but a subtle tilt of her chin presented a question of just how he'd been keeping such close tabs on her, and, more importantly, why.

"Do you think for a minute that he's going to leave her, or _any_ of them, for you?"

"No."

"Then what is it you're doing? Don't tell me that there aren't strings, Aerith. I know you. I know what your expression means every time you look in his direction. There are thick, visible strings, Aerith."

She exhaled with forced steadiness. "I know how he is, Tseng. Trying to change it makes me just like every other chick around; naive, dependent, parasitic. I knew how he was from the beginning."

"And you're willing to be second, third, maybe fourth at times? Maybe even tenth? Maybe just a convenience?"

She looked away, her eyes soaking in the sight behind the man she begrudgingly considered a companion, and saw that the redhead had evaporated from sight. She felt relief loosen the muscles of her shoulders, and instantly felt shame that tension had been there to begin with.

"What happened to the Aerith I knew? The one that deserved better? The one that had enough self respect to accept no less than being first, and only, to the people that claimed to care for her?"

The words stung like the tips of half-sharpened needles prodding at her ribcage. She kept her eyes on the void where Reno had been only minutes before, fingers twitching with the need to hit something. "She's dead, evidently."

"I see that," Tseng agreed quietly.

"You see _shit_," she spat. She couldn't take much more of his cool tone. "You think I don't think about these same things every fucking day of my life, Tseng, and every time I climb into his bed, among a million traces of everyone else who has probably been in it? You think I don't know that I'm in a downward spiral of a relationship that we both have known would end badly from the beginning? You think I don't wonder about the way he is with them, that it's probably not much different than the way he is with me, and that nothing is sacred in this situation?" She looked back to him again, her lips trembling with the threat of a quickly dissolving temper. "It was the choice I made, Tseng. I spent twenty-two fucking years of my life alone, trying to save humanity from its own god damn self-inflicted destruction, and sacrificing anything worthwhile that I'd fought so hard to establish, only to cause more loss and pain than I'd ever thought was possible. Yeah, it hurts, Tseng, like sandpaper on my fuckin' eyeballs, but it's nothing compared to what that life—what that kind of _loss—_felt like."

She stopped herself only to catch her breath, and get a hold on a wave of unwelcome self-pity. Damned if she was going to let him get under her skin with shards of uncertainty. Those shards were already deeply grafted to her skeleton, and had made themselves at home there. She had no room for his.

"You have choices. You have another chance. You could establish something new. With someone that would actually love you, Aerith. Can you imagine? Actually hearing those words spoken to you in sincerity?"

She looked down at the coffee cup she'd forgotten was there, distracting herself from the next wave of stinging needles. He was really trying to push her buttons today, and she was ready to reward him with a punch to the eye.

"It doesn't matter," she sighed. "When this ends... maybe it won't hurt so bad, because I know what to expect."

"Maybe it'll hurt more."

She shrugged. "And maybe you'll get hit by a bus on your way home."

Tseng sighed in exasperation. "Maybe you two absolutely deserve each other after all."

For the first time in several minutes, humor resurfaced in her face as she felt brave enough to look back to the man before her. "Why do you care about all this shit, Tseng? Why do you take responsibility for the mistakes I make?"

Tseng appeared thoughtful, hesitant to speak at first, then his head tilted. "Maybe you're correct. Maybe I am taking some unwarranted responsibility. Whatever reason there is for it is an issue I'll surely think long and hard about when this day is over."

Aerith let her eyes drift back to her coffee, feeling satisfied with his response. Until he spoke again.

"But I can't rid myself of the feeling I have about it. These diatribes about your pain in the decisions you make, Aerith, with this man you profess to have attachment to, they mean nothing to me. I don't deny you my empathy, but I find it difficult to offer sympathy. You've sold yourself into this slavery, my dear."

"This from one of ShinRa's finest?" she interjected with an arched eyebrow. "We're really going to discuss slavery?"

His expression was flat. "I don't deny my profession is demanding. But I get enough in return to keep myself comfortably balanced. I have no complaints. You, however, seem to have plenty."

"Then I feel compelled to ask again," she began, leaning forward and speaking just a fraction slower, "why do you care? Some grudge over a relationship that you and I never actually had friggin' centuries ago? Or is this some pissing contest with Reno?"

He didn't answer, of course. At least, not in any direct fashion. "You think we never had something?"

* * *

Recognition set in as they both stared at each other.

"I never anticipated he'd react so severely," he murmured, uncertainty coloring his voice for the first time as his eyes averted.

With a tilt of her head, Aerith took in his sudden change in demeanor, her brows knitting together. Tseng had just lied to her.

"Yes...," she began, her tone reflecting her incredulity, "you did."

"No," he insisted, bringing his dark eyes back to hers. "I didn't think he'd be quite like this. If I had known..."

"What? If you'd known, you would have told me to keep fucking him?" The words had dropped in pitch to a deadly velvet. She stood then, stepping around the desk. She wasn't even entirely sure just what reaction that had come of this ordeal they were discussing--she'd avoided everyone these days, especially _him_, but Tseng seemed to be alluding to a much heavier reaction from Reno than she'd anticipated. She wasn't sure if that made her feel good or bad. "What did you think was going to happen? What did you _want_ to happen, Tseng?"

The Turk's posture went even more rigid, if that was possible, and his expression blackened. "I don't know what you're getting at, Aerith."

"What was it all about, Tseng?" She hissed dangerously, inching closer to him. "Really that concerned for me? Bullshit."

"I am concerned," he retorted, his voice finally dropping all carefully imposed stoicism and projecting nothing but warning. "For you, and for my best Turk. Back away before you do something you regret, Miss Gainsborough."

She seethed at the name, but continued on as though she hadn't heard a word of his weak rebuttal. This was suddenly making too much sense, and the implications, the repercussions... it all left her feeling nauseous. "Is this all because I wouldn't fuck you, Tseng? Because I didn't agree that we 'had something'?"

He opened his mouth and faltered, and the hesitation was enough for them to both realize he'd just validated her accusation.

It took every ounce of Aerith's will to keep from screaming the words out. "All that hard work to butter me up and get me nice and loose, but I didn't put out for you? Because sex with me is the only instrument for closure you think you need to get over what happened years ago? That's it, isn't it, you filthy fucking—"

"Watch your mouth," was all the growled warning she got before an open hand collided with her face, the contact making a loud slap that echoed throughout the sterile lab.

Aerith reeled for a few seconds, her instincts prodding her to pull her gun and eliminate the threat. Instead, she spat out the blood that had gathered at the corner of her lip where her teeth had dug into the flesh, and she turned back to look at the man that had just slapped her.

He looked somewhere between horrified and outraged. He swallowed. "Aerith—"

"All that bullshit about being with someone that gave a damn," she said with false cheer, a humorless chuckle escaping her. "I may have been nothing more than a glorified whore to him, but he never-ever-would raise a hand to me. Sit on that. After all your big talk, your moral high ground, your god damn 'I walk on water' shit... he's still got the part of his soul that you lost ages ago."

Tseng was breathing hard, and she almost flinched when he shifted, thinking he was going to strike her again. Instead, he stepped back. "Aerith, I—"

"Fuck you," she rasped. "No, I don't know what's wrong with him. I haven't seen him. And you have no place telling me about my life. What I did was for me, not because you wanted it. Period. What do you think Elena would say about all of this?"

Again, his jaw twitched.

"And if you hit me again," she continued, taking a step closer as he backed away even further, her voice low and controlled, "I will kill you."

Rufus may have found that threat a terminable offense—quite literally—but the both of them knew that Tseng wouldn't dare utter a word of what had just taken place. He had inadvertently given her power, and he wasn't going to risk his own hide for it. And he knew she meant it, her jade eyes gleaming with unfathomable fury, and a depth there that only the subject of Reno could possibly spur.


	27. 078 Dependent

078. Dependent

They lead you believe that nights are the hardest when you've gone through a rather difficult break up. The cold bedsheets, the associations of shadowed bedroom walls, the dark that leaves you alone to the deepest traverses of thought, just to name a few.

What a fucking crock. Who the fuck are_ they_, anyway, and what place do they have planting such propaganda in my head?

There really is no time of day that seems to be easier than another, but there is a point where the knife seems to slice a little more deeply.

It's the afternoon, waiting for him to leave his office. Sometimes I end up lingering down a corridor to be sure he's gone before I'm forced to walk by to leave a report in any given office. Some days he leaves early. Most days, really. But some days he's late. Abnormally late. Late enough to make me question if there's someone else in there with him.

Images of the desk, the office chair, the love seat... they're all my memories, but they've been taken over by an anonymous entity where I used to be in each one.

Then I remember that even if it's so, it's not my place. Even worse, the moments following the realization remind me that it never was my place. That was part of the problem.

It repulsed and offended me to acknowledge, but the fact was that Tseng had successfully planted the seed of doubt in my head. It wasn't love, but fusion. From Reno's end, anyway. A void that could be filled by anyone. I couldn't even be called his whore. The name implied more dignity than I could be awarded. If Tseng's wisdom was even remotely well-founded, then I was nothing more than a leech. Or perhaps a symbiont of some kind, as the relationship had been mutually beneficial. Co-dependent. Each slowly racing to kill the other.

Then he walks out of his office, his posture making him appear to have lost inches in height, his steps slow and distracted. Alone. I feel like less than a parasite then.

I realize I'd been trying to convince myself to hate him. To hold him responsible for my new status as what amounted to an amoeba. I'm wrong and I know that.

He missed two days of work. I can't ignore the implications. It's presumptuous and self-righteous, but it can't be coincidence.

And is it so presumptuous? It seems like somewhere, the part of me that's logical, rational, and trying like hell to make me pay attention, is certain that there's more going on than I'm letting myself admit. He'd never been able to say the words outright, but there were moments... unquestionably warm moments that couldn't easily be faked. Even by a Turk. I'm not stupid. Something in his life is certainly affected by my absence, even if I stubbornly deny it.

I don't know what I'm playing at. Do I expect anything to come of this?

It plagues me as I leave the building, making sure to stay at least five minutes' distance behind Reno.

It doesn't matter. I feel him ahead. Maybe in the lingering scent of him in the air, the cigarette smoke that leaves an invisible trail behind him...

I choose to walk a bit slower. Still, his presence is embedded in my skin, and in my clothes. Ghosts of his fingertips in my hair.

I take an alternate way home. I nearly get mugged on the way, but I try to convince myself that the extra effort is worth it.

All to no avail.

He's still all around me. Symbiont to symbiont.

I wonder if he feels me, too.


	28. 079 Guide

079. Guide

[Reno POV]

**July 10th... at the bar.**

It's funny what you do when things or people are out of your life. I'm not going into details. I'd rather not. Hell, I'm writing this on a napkin. Why? I'm not really sure. I don't write..aside from my name on precious documents. Maybe I'm just tired of staring at the barmaid's tits. She has some fucking huge ones.. but I'd rather not get a hard on right now. I really can't afford it.

I heard, no, I know her punches hurt like a bitch. I've been there. But that's another story. What I really meant when I said I can't afford it, I spent all my checks on **candy**. If you even think I'm talking about sugar.. you're a fuckin' dumbass.

No, my nights have been the same. Except tonight.. I'm writing this sober. I'm afraid if I try to write when fucked up, I'd tell anyone who has this napkin my story. They'd know my weakness. I already said it in the first paragraph. Did you catch it?

I'm not drinking that much tonight. I don't want to mix the **candy** I got with anything. For once, I'm afraid of the consequence. The guy I bought it off of asked if I was a Turk. He knew I was. So my first thought was that he was going to try to kill me. He gave me this shit so cheap. I know its pure stuff. If he knocks out a Turk his business will boom. I'm known on the streets for selling and dealing. He'd take over my clients in a heartbeat.

The barmaid keeps looking at me. Sometimes I swear she'd like to fuck me. But it's not a smile the next time I catch her. She's wondering why I haven't touched my scotch. I usually clean out her bar. Right now she's thinking I'm plotting something.

I don't blame her. I'd hate me, too.

Time to pack it up and spend the night on my floor and hear the television's white noise. Maybe I'll faze out, too.

* * *

**July 13th.. at home.**

I missed two days of work. Tseng called me thirty minutes ago. He wasn't mad, more like scared. They'll sweep my apartment soon if I don't come in. It wasn't like I intended on missing work. I physically could not get up. The guy who sold me the shit really wanted me dead. Too bad no one ever thinks in consideration I'm a product of ShinRa. I don't have your blood, folks. Oh, I can't donate blood for money.. that's the downfall.

I'll clean up the evidence and head to work. I'll suffer this headache .. I'm getting used it by now actually. Shit, why am I writing this?

* * *

**July 15th... Home.**

_My eyes grow darker_

_Can barely see your face_

_Yesterday I tried to belong_

_You know I won't stay that long_

_In a time of lust and liars_

_I learned to trust my own desires_

_Touch me don't be ashamed_

_I just don't know how to play that game_

_- Rising Sun_

I'm not sure if I really do this to forget, because, damn, I don't forget. If anything it makes it worse. At least my body is at ease, other than the usual degree of rapid heart rate. My mind feels ecstasy but its the images that make me hurt. I suppose you can say heartache. I never believed in heartache. I don't think anyone really believes in it. Just some poetry language. Emotion comes from the brain, a section that humans often use rationally rather than instinctively. ...

I don't understand how that organ can ache. When my mother died, I didn't cry. I didn't feel this. I can't say I'm in good health, but I'm not sickly. I know my heart isn't failing on me. When I don't think about my loss I don't feel it. That's how I know it's the word _heartache_. Sometimes I don't recognize myself. I don't remember smashing the mirror in the bathroom. But I used one big shard to line my powder up. I have a phone number on a sticky note on my night stand. I don't remember that either. ...

So I called it...

No one picked up but I got a female's voice mail instead. I told her I called, but kept out how I managed her number. Maybe I wasn't supposed to have it. She called back later that night. Made an offer to meet at Goblins. Maybe I just need to get back into my old habits. I'll try anything. ...

* * *

**July 15th ... later on.**

_Your effervescent eyes have awakened me_

_And brushed the dust away_

_But I knew you'd never stay_

_- C.H._

...

She was a blonde. Not my taste, but she had large emerald eyes that glowed. I asked if she was in SOLDIER. She blushed... she blushed most of the time actually. I started to see why she was prone to asking for more drinks. When she drank the flush of alcohol made her blushes normal, or hidden. I tried to hint to how I got her number. Apparently we met one night at a bar. I was three sheets in the wind but could entertain others with stories. I told her how I knew someone who knocked over a liquor store to refill my cabinets from drinking it all while I was on a business trip. I probably couldn't retell it sober. ...

We talked until she couldn't comprehend what I was saying. She lead me to her home located around the slums. We got intimate, but it was when her eyes glazed over with euphoria I stopped. I could tell she was confused, maybe hurt. But I apologized and picked up my clothes. She stood completely naked in the doorway as I left. Blond tresses shielding her slightly from any predators in the dark or behind windows. ...

It was her eyes that I remembered. I saw them before. And then the ache started again.

* * *

A/N: This was not written by me, but by my Reno (the roleplayer whose work you've seen dotted throughout this series), 100%. He's rad, because he lets me use his words for my own projects. I just formatted, and didn't do much else in the way of editing. It's pure.

His note on this chapter:

"Detachment comes in a lot of different forms to people. Thusly, Reno embarks on another chapter. He no longer finds comfort in all the 'normal' things he did. He always takes a step further, finding that extra encouragement in things that might not be entirely 'healthy' or at least 'healthier' than his usual lifestyle. In a sense he's losing once again someone close to him, even though his mother was never really 'close' to him, there is still a bond that all children have to their blood parents. He has abandonment issues and the effects of losing Aerith is shown."


	29. 080 Track

080. Track

[Warning: Smut - toward the end]

At some point, the days had become airless. Stifling and still, the planet's movement imperceptible, as though it had slowed to a stop, little by little, so as not to alert her inhabitants.

Aerith was never a believer when it came to the ridiculous irrationality of tales of love and loss; the weeping, the woeful stories of lost sleep, the sensation of one's heart being ripped from one's chest when a certain song played on the radio. All of it seemed over-dramatic and far from genuine.

And, to a degree, she'd learned in the past month that she was right-at least, those things had never felt genuine in her past experiences. Those were things that she'd felt in some aspect or another when her previous relationships had ended, the self-indulgent catharsis of tears and stories of the better times. Zack, Cloud, Vincent... all were disasters of idolization. They were fantasies and ideals that failed to deliver what the very concept of relationships were fabled to be about. No emotional intimacy. No love. Just imprinting.

But as Aerith watched Reno walk into his office that day, a little over a month since they'd exchanged their last words, she'd never felt anything more devastatingly real in her life.

There was only numbness in this depth of loss, and it penetrated every cell in her body. The loss of a best friend, a companion that felt like it had been life-long-or should have been-until she'd pulled the plug. But this was supposed to be better for the two of them, and somewhere she knew that. They couldn't continue being terrible to each other. He couldn't be someone that she could cling to for validation, and she couldn't be the warm body that he relied on to be there night after night.

Dragging air forcibly into her lungs, Aerith slipped into the elevator and pushed the button to get to the first floor and go home. She didn't need to be at work today. Rufus would get over it. Home was her only sanctuary. Safety.

Her eyes were blank as they stared back at her in the door's reflection. At least he was okay. He was still coming to work. As long as he lived his life, she figured she could, too. She hadn't watched him long enough to read his face, however. She could only hope that he was happy enough for the both of them.

* * *

How long could someone be stubborn? In Reno's book, it was a long time. Though he was still coming to work like usual, there was definitely a difference in his stature and the way he walked. Elena was sent away from his office plenty of times after her motherly concern.

_"Reno, you don't look good. I mean, you haven't slept in ages. You have dark rings under your eyes. I know because I have a fair complexion and so do you. I can tell, 'cause mine look _really, really bad_ some days. Are you eating well? And you haven't been talking to Tseng. I know he knows something that I don't know; you know?"_

With his normal nods and 'don't worry about it' speech, he shoo-ed her away with a big push out of his office followed by the slam of the door. He didn't need someone constantly telling him to eat and sleep. Shit, he wasn't five years old. Furthermore, she wanted in on the tense atmosphere that Tseng was sending out.. or he was sending out. For the most part, he kept his conversations short with the Wutaian.

He'd never before noticed that the dent in the worn mattress of his bed was fit for her body. Those nights that he rolled over and felt nothing but the coolness of the silken sheets only added to the feeling that something was missing. Denial was an ugly thing and Reno was starting to realize all that Aerith was to him. But it was also a matter of pride. Never had he imagined her leaving him. Hell, he never thought of leaving her. They had an odd relationship, but Reno wasn't used to anything else. He never had a 'normal' one.. so the abnormal ones were simply normal to him.

But when the butane had finally expired in the Zippo she'd left him, it was a sign that it had fully been far too long since he last saw her. There had been glimpses and documents with her reports on it but, for some reason, she had a knack for keeping herself out of sight when wanting to. He was thinner and his dreams mocked him with nothing but her face.

That's what he woke up to, other than the report plastered to his forehead. He was let off work early since his lack of energy was starting to cost the company. Those nights without her had led to nothing but drunken fits with a mix of narcotics, as he'd never kicked his habit for cocaine. Though usually once the after effects of giving himself a hand job had worn off, he only felt lonely in the long run. He had no desire for someone else to give him happy endings, it just wasn't what he wanted. Even if he'd indulged in such acts it only led him to think of her, which only entangled him more in sleepless nights. It just wasn't worth it.

Without even bothering to reach for his jacket, he made his way down from the elevator into the lobby area.

It was there he saw her, as if he didn't get enough of her image in his dreams. His pride didn't matter anymore. He was a mess, and he was sure Tseng didn't ask for this when telling his concerns to Aerith. It might have cost him a Turk.

"Aerith." His voice cracked and he was sure she didn't hear him fully. "Aerith, wait." This time around it was a bit more forceful as if slowly building the courage to speak how he felt.

For the first time in over a month, Aerith's heart began stuttering a familiar tattoo against her chest, a rhythm patented to the effect that sound of his voice alone had on her. She had just barely made it to the door of the lobby, but found that her legs refused to move another step.

Internally, she panicked. She couldn't talk to him. This would destroy the barrier she'd nearly killed herself building. But her name on his lips, the word breaking... her resolve to walk out the door crumbled uselessly at her feet.

With great difficulty, she arranged her features to mask her uncertainty. If anyone could detect that she was anxious, though, it would surely be him. Reno knew her face better than anyone. Reno was trained to understand body language. She hadn't let him see her face all this time for that reason. She'd just have to try twice as hard now. Slowly, she pivoted on a heel and turned to face him, completely not expecting the image that slammed into her.

Sweet _fuck_.

He looked a wreck. He clearly wasn't sleeping. He'd lost weight. His drug intake had likely increased, by the complexion of his skin and his slight subtle movements she caught in her peripheral vision. She knew his body just as well as he knew hers; every minuscule difference in his appearance sending a wave of shock through her and whispering blame in her ears. She'd done this. The irrational, manipulative, damaged part of her could have argued, accusing her of taking credit where it was not due, but this was something she simply knew. She'd lived it. Had she been wrong all this time? She kept her expression cool, however. She'd had a lot of practice in the past month; if they knew she was nearly the wreck she'd really been, they'd never let her touch the equipment in the lab again.

"Reno," she greeted simply, her voice smooth with forced calm. Too many eyes and ears in the lobby. Could anyone hear the lie in her voice?

With an infinitesimal nod, she gestured that he should step outside with her. Once she knew he got the message, she turned and walked out the doors.

The receptionist seemed interested in the tense way he followed her out, but everyone else couldn't care less. Aerith, it seemed, was an everyday sight to them. And though she was one of the many who saved Gaia, it was over with and everyone seemed to go on with their lives, regardless of the sacrifice she'd made for them all. On this account, he could understand what selfish human beings the world held, but overall he knew he was one of them. If he hadn't had a relationship with her, as odd as it may be, he wouldn't think anything of her. At least, the part where she'd saved the world.

Treading a few more yards away from the building to be safe before finally turning around, Aerith found she couldn't speak. She didn't trust her own voice, and beyond that she found she had no words. He was too close, his fragrance tickling her nose and deep in her throat.

Pressing his back against the slate of the ShinRa building, Reno heaved a sigh. It was now or never. It was here that he could take her in, hoping out of any shred of change in her due to their separation. She looked as wonderful as ever. Her curves were still there, even those ruby lips that always curved slightly when she was around him. Though, now, they were pursed together as if she was waiting for him to do something or say something. She wasn't going to be the first one to talk. Hell, he was the one that called her out.

"I-er..." _Great work! This will be just a piece of cake if you just mutter out nothings as if you were talking to your crotch. _Kicking himself to actually say something coherent, he brought his eyes on her own. It was there he could see a slight betraying of her body; she always was able to speak to him through those large emerald eyes. It was there he find the courage to speak actual words. "You've been alright?"

He came this far to ask her if she was alright? That wasn't in the plans, but being on the spot to say something was harder than he ever imagined. Reno was always one to open his mouth and talk, but this time around he was finding it so hard to form the words.

Aerith had noted his articulation seemed to be affected, too.

It was only an off-hand observation, her senses otherwise alerting her the second that his eyes scoured her figure. He was trying to read her. She shifted her weight before she could stop it, fighting not to break from his gaze in fear of betraying her inner turmoil. But that was the rub, wasn't it? Some part of her wanted him to see how messed up she was over this whole thing. And what was the motivation there? To inspire guilt? That was perhaps a remnant of the manipulative part of her that she was working so hard to rid herself of. Or was it to give him another crumb of hope that things could be made right, knowing on some subconscious level that he was just as fucked up as she was about this?

She never liked the saying about one being between a rock and a hard place. However, there was nothing better to describe her current predicament, unsure if she was holding out for a hope that she harbored foolishly-he had to be talking to her for some reason, right? Or was it to just shut the door on things once and for all, the way she probably deserved?

She swallowed, and finally dropped her eyes from him. No matter what, he was going to get the truth from her, from here on out.

"I'm still alive," she said, her grosgrain voice wrought with age far beyond her biological years. It was the truth, but she knew she was skirting around the issue. She wasn't alright, but she'd managed not to do something stupid as a result, in summation. Hesitantly, she brought her eyes back to his face. _Are_ you _alright_? That seemed an absurd question, one that she no longer felt she had the right to ask. She was a bastard. "Was there... something you needed?"

_Was there something you needed?_

How many answers could he give to that? Tons. They were racing through his mind like a bullet in the brain. But it wasn't wound in his skull that kept throbbing; it was as if he was seared in the heart. It had been like this for a good number of weeks now. And at first he thought it was just a bad case of heartburn. Fuck, who was he kidding? Could he honestly go day by day wondering where she's sleeping?

Biting his lip he nodded his head, his words failing him again. "Yeah, there is. I want... I want to be with you."

The answer in his head, the one he was repeating over and over, didn't come out like he wanted to. There was a sense of poetry in his words in that head of his, but when he forced them out of his throat it was just words that a child could construct. Not an adult. So he swallowed hard and tried it again. This was big step for Reno; he was trying to tell her something he needed when all his life he'd denied it. "I miss you."

Aerith stood in stunned silence at the admission. A hundred times she must have heard him tell her he missed her, always with a smirk in his voice. The words never came off like the plea that they were now, and the gravity of it, the agony that had replaced the ever present humor, was a bittersweet experience. His pain she never wanted, but his sincerity she did.

There was no denying he had suffered sleepless nights; he knew what he was looking at in the mirror. He was afraid of mixing sleeping pills with the other narcotics swimming in his system. He wanted to wake up the next day, at least, even if it was a day full of failure on his part. Maybe if he didn't know she was still around it would have been easier. But knowing that she was in the building, even picking up traces of her perfume throughout the corridors only made it worse. It was sheer torture. How could a woman's scent bring on such images and reduce a man nearly to tears? A month ago he would have laughed at it.

"Please... I miss my friend," he continued, "I miss everything about you. I roll over and find nothing but an empty bed. A month ago I would have passed it off... but now it's hard."

He hadn't changed the sheets since she last visited. Hell, he hadn't brought anyone in his apartment since then. Even when he'd tried to replace her touch with another woman it wasn't in his apartment. Though it all it made him feel miserable in the end. He swore off all those tries by the first couple of weeks. Instead, he turned to his drugs, which only made him feel empty when the high had left.

He bit his lip again, his throat constricting as he tried to hold back a flood of emotions that were now threatening to invade. His eyes burned and he quickly glanced over his shoulder. He didn't want anyone to see him at his lowest yet. With his shoulder leaning against the wall, he brought his vision down.

"I thought... I thought I could go on without you. You left me... after all. I figured I'd get over it. But I can't." There, he said it. His lips were becoming increasingly dry from the heaving of his chest. He lifted his hand so that his knuckles pressed his lips, not hard, just something to hold him steady, and to distract him from looking up. It was as if the ground held great interest suddenly, but the truth of it all was that he couldn't look at her face.

Aerith caught the glance he'd made over his shoulder, and her protective instincts flared up as though they'd never paid heed to her intention of leaving him. Her instincts thought she was an idiot.

"Can you leave work? We should talk somewhere else." Her voice wasn't as calm as it had been just minutes ago, but she was trying. God, she was trying. "Fuck it. Just... come on." She grabbed his hand and steered him away from the building, heart pounding in her chest, threatening to break out and leave her crumpled on the ground, lifeless. Part of her had wanted to stop him halfway through his words, the pain in his voice and those eyes that had haunted her... it was too much to bear.

Reno had expected her to cross her arms, to shrug and say he had it coming. Maybe the mentality that she wouldn't take him back inspired him to imagine these actions. He was used to women telling him to leave. He was used to getting a nice slap to the face, too. So, he felt he had it coming. He deserved it after all, probably more than any other slap he'd ever received. But instead she was pulling him along the street, his feet nearly stumbling over the gutters in the process. He was still trying to get his composure under control and the quick paced walk didn't help.

Meanwhile, she was experiencing her own battle for composure. Tears welled up, tear ducts sore from weeks of trying to hold back torrential downpour, and she was breathing nearly as raggedly as he was as she let his words mull over her once more. She didn't even know where they were going, but was vaguely aware that his place wasn't that far down this path.

"Do you still have it?" she asked suddenly, quietly, her eyes trained ahead. She didn't really feel like clarifying if she meant the lighter or the plastic ring. She really just wanted to see if he had kept anything at all of hers in his effort to get on without her. And, she'd admit, she was afraid to ask if he intended to give the ring back to her in the manner she'd requested. Better not to push him too far, too fast.

The question brought an image of the candy apple red Zippo, but Reno's thoughts just as quickly veered to the plastic ring. He'd kept it in his wallet, tucked inside a small coin area for safekeeping. "Y-yeah, I do." It was a blunt response but he was focusing on his feet now.

When they turned into the familiar alley way that led to his complex, he stopped, halting her along with him. She hadn't explained where they were going, though he knew better. They were near his house, but he was still trying to get a handle on his emotions and figure out what she was trying to do. Last time he'd tried to get her to come back with him had failed. They were far away from ShinRa now, at least they could talk without being spied upon by anyone else.

"Please don't be leading me just to say goodbye again." He was almost pleading now, his eyes still burning from only minutes before. His fingers found his wallet, carefully slipping them into the pocketed area. "If you want it back, I'll give it to you." His hands weren't steady, they never really were to begin with but now it was clearly seen as he placed the ring in his palm, turning it over carefully between his thumb and pointer finger. He looked defeated, a young man aged far beyond his time. His posture was sluggish, but none of that usual swagger with it. Instead he was weak with emotions, his pride broken, and the last glimmer of hope still latching on miserably.

How could one woman do this to him? He'd never noticed before how she was the one that made his life what it was. Not just this shell that he'd become.

She sighed and faced him, blinking a few times at the ring that he held in his shaking fingers. She shook her head, but smiled a little, bringing her gaze up to his eyes. The pain there almost took her breath away again and she had to fight to keep her eyes from averting again.

"I'm not saying goodbye," she murmured. She cleared her throat, hoping her voice wouldn't sound nearly as weak as she felt. "I missed you, too. If you..." She paused to take a trembling breath. "If you mean what you said... and I believe that you did... then I can't say goodbye. Fuck, Reno, this has been the most miserable fuckin' month of my life. And I've been dead before, for Christ's sake. All I wanted was for it to be real for you, too..." She grasped his hand, curling his fingers over the ring and getting it back into his palm. "I do want this, but... when you're ready..." She peered into his eyes meaningfully. "I won't make you say it... not now. Soon, maybe, if you think that you can still..." She shook her head. "For now, though..."

And this was where she could let it all go to hell again, or she could assert what the next step would have to be. But god damn it, he was so close, and she was feeling weaker by the second as she looked at his forlorn expression.

"For now..." she said again, closing her eyes tightly, and subsequently taking a deep breath. If she was going to take them both to hell, she was going to do it the best way she knew how. She opened her eyes again and, with speed that startled even her, she leaned up to press her lips to his, and hand snaking behind his neck to hold him prisoner until he felt how much she was welcoming him back into her life.

Reno dropped his wallet. Her words rang in his head like an echo, and slowly he started to realize she was really here with him, her lips really against his. At that moment, he returned it tenfold. His body filled with energy again and he reacted by wrapping his arms around her, keeping his fist tight around that ring. He pressed her against the wall, his lips parting from hers as he moved down her neck, fully breathing her in. It seemed like ages since he'd felt her warmth against him, her hair all around. Retracting his hand from her waist, he brought it up to her face and through her hair, his lips abandoning her neck to capture her warm plush tiers once more, eagerly taking in all they had to offer.

He had to stop now or this alley would be treated with no more sanctity than the back of his Jeep. When finally pulling his body away from hers, he noted how incredibly warm he was; or she was. Lowering himself, he grabbed his wallet, placing the treasure inside before pocketing it. His breathing was ragged like before, but this time around it wasn't out of heartbreak. He really didn't have to say anything as he grabbed her hand and led her towards his apartment, this time leading her, catching a mischievous grin on Aerith's lips as she followed with no resistance.

It was amazing the difference she could see in him, as though his spirits were lifted and his physical appearance seemed to have lost many years in a few short seconds. Her legs felt boneless as he led her to his apartment, and she almost felt compelled to release a string of curses that he hadn't relieved her misery right there in the alley. Now that she'd felt him again, the distance frightened her, like he wasn't really there after all.

When they were finally at his door, he unlocked it clumsily, failing a few times with the numerous locks he had. When the door was open he knew that his apartment wasn't going to be nice and clean. He hadn't had the energy to clean up all the massive amount of damage he'd been doing to himself. It was obvious what exactly he did while she was gone; on the table were pieces of pipe and traces of cocaine on a mirror next to a few razors.

"I didn't have time to clean." He said with a sheepish smile.

The familiar scents of the place overwhelmed her, and she fought the growing lump in her throat as she breathed it in like a starved woman. It brought a watery smile to her face. "Started thinkin' I'd never see this place again..." Her eyes finally fell on what he'd been referring to, however, and she let her smile fall as she observed the remnants of what had clearly occupied him in her absence. "Was this because of me?"

His eyes traveled to the table. There really wasn't anything he could do to hide it now. He hadn't expected her to be standing in his apartment, not after this miserable month.

"Nah, I wouldn't say it's all your doin'," he replied. "Don't blame yourself for that."

She pursed her lips, turning to face him. Seeing him only made the distance much more palpable, however, and she couldn't help but press herself close, her arms winding around his thin waist. She let her eyes fall closed as she felt how much thinner he really was. The words tasted bitter on her lips, and she was terrified of ruining the sweetness of this reunion, but it needed to be said. Her eyes didn't open, and she pressed her forehead against his chest. There was a lot to forgive between the both of them. This conversation had to happen, but at least she could do it from the comfort of his arms. His home. Her home. "Can you forgive me?"

A smile graced his lips at the feel her arms around his waist and her head upon his chest. "Forgive you? For what?"

She fumbled for the words she didn't want to say, to bring the damage she'd done, enough to bring him to this, to the surface.

But Reno didn't think any of that was her fault. He'd chosen to whip out the heavy duty drugs. "Don't say that.. you helped me realize something. .. " He paused, his eyes staring onto a spot on the carpet although he was really seeing through it. It had been one hell of a month, and his performance in everything had been affected. Rufus and the Turks knew something was up. Elena made sure to question him every day. She was the prime person for gossip so he knew for sure everyone in the entire unit knew of his disposition. Tseng knew better than to toss Aerith's name about, so he said nothing and ignored the rumors that had reached his ears.

"You know I missed you.. It's pretty damn obvious." And so this was his revelation. "I don't think I can function correctly without you." His eyes met with hers once more as he brought his free hand to the side of her face, lightly caressing it before settling on her chin. Tilting her head up, he lowered himself to press fully on her lips, soft and gentle. Not the crushing rush from down in the alley. It was genuine.

The drugs had her worried, but she figured it was a conversation that could wait at this point. There were more important matters at hand. Matters like his lips pressing an unhurried kiss to hers, warm and soft. She smiled gently, taking her time with this integral token of affection. Once they parted, she let her smile widen, her eyes flickering open to drink in the sight of his aquamarine gaze. "That's all you realized, huh? That you can't function without me?"

Her grin was teasing, of course. Try as she might, she didn't think she could ever stop trying to weasel the truer confession out of him, but such was the nature of things. One day, she knew she'd need to hear it, but this was a step for him that she was proud of him for. She let her expression fall to a softer one, a hand lifting to cup the side of his face.  
"I believe you," she whispered. They seemed vital words; the confirmation they both needed that they were in this together. "You've heard me tell you my feelings a few times in this relationship, but... I realize now that trust of that kind had never really been touched between us. I never... I think I never saw reason to trust that it was the same for you." She continued on quickly, not wanting the words to sadden him. "But I just needed that kind of honesty." She smiled again and pressed yet another kiss to his lips before pulling back just enough to let her lips brush against his as she whispered. "Are you still afraid?"

He didn't respond right away, halfway reveling in the wake of her kiss, the other half taking a moment to consider her question.

"In a way, yes." His response was just as quiet as hers. "...I'm afraid something bad is going to happen... as if somethin' knows now of my weakness." With his eyes still lowered he pulled away but grabbed her hand so that he coaxed her near his bedroom. It was the same as always, maybe a bit more clothes on the ground. "I'm afraid now that some supernatural being knows how much I need you.. and something is going to happen that takes you away from me. Happens most of the time when I get close to somethin'. I know it sounds stupid." He sat down on the bed then, his hand still wrapped around her arm. "But.. I just went with that feelin' ever since I joined the Turks. " He gave a shrug before pulling her lightly near him. "But... it's not good not tell you some things. Leaves you in the dark.. I realize that now."

His lips turned up into a smile before wrapping his arms around her waist, his face pressing just above her navel. He sat there then just taking in the smell of her, the warmth of her body, and the silkiness of her dress against his face. It was hard believing she was here, real. There was a long time when he'd figured the only physical memory he would have of her was the slight indent of her figure on his bed.

His words brought a sad smile to her lips, and she let her arms wrap around his neck to hold him against her. She leaned down to place a kiss on the top of his head, to offer her comfort.

"Just give it time," she said softly, her fingers threading through his crimson hair. Her eyes closed at the familiar feel of it, like wrapping her skin in silk. "This is the hard part, right? I'm not going anywhere. Once you see that nothing is taking me from you, that I'm still here day after day, the fear will subside."

He considered her words in silence. Maybe she was right about getting used to it. But he was sure that, for a while, there was still going to be that feeling of anxiety. Something, someday, was going to happen, he was sure of it. As much as he hated to think such things, he just couldn't help it. He was a Turk and one of the prime rules was not to get attached to anything. But he was a human being like all of them, and he had needs. He knew that even in his department they continued to have relationships, and all were taking a big risk at it, just like him.

Aerith swallowed and withdrew her fingers, then pushed his shoulders back slightly so that she could see his face. Once there, she smiled and pushed him farther until he was on his back and then she crawled up to nestle into his side her head against his shoulder. She needed the closeness; the month had been hell on her, too, no matter how well she'd hid it.

Tilting her head up, she searched his eyes. "Please don't be afraid to tell me anything. I need that. I can't breathe without it. I can't be the only one in this relationship that..." That's where she normally would have stopped her sentence, but if she was requiring honesty from him, it wasn't fair to chicken out. She cleared her throat gently. "...that feels love. And I know I left, and I know it hurt you, but... it's because I didn't know. I thought maybe, but... our conversations rarely exceed the boundaries of the bedroom, ya know?" She chuckled uneasily.

He nodded in response. He knew it was his fault for leaving her with so many questions and doubt.

"I'm sorry. I'll get better, I promise," he said softly, his eyes traveling to the popcorn ceiling. "I'm learning. I learned a lot this month..." which was true. Rolling over, he flipped himself up, his palms supporting his weight on each side of her head against the mattress. His eyebrows rose as he hovered above her on all fours, trapping her underneath him, that long ponytail sliding off his shoulder and grazing her chest. Reno hardly said 'sorry', let alone words resembling 'forgiveness'. This would be another big step for him, but he was feeling confident and his pride was lowering its defenses. "Will you forgive me?"

The answer was easy.

"If you didn't figure it out by my assault of you outside..." she smiled from beneath him, her fingers toying with the end of his ponytail, "You were forgiven the moment you said my stupid name in the lobby."

"Hey, I like your name," he protested.

Her smile faded, her teeth biting into her lower lip. "This bed... I would wake up, thinking I was here. I'd turn to watch you, to make sure you were getting restful sleep... I used to do that, you know? Like the night that you shot all that Narcan in my system... you watched me. I knew you did. I should have known then, maybe, that I was more to you than just a recurring fuck. But... after that night, it made me worry about you more. I'd watch you sleep... listen to make sure you were breathing... and then... for a whole month, I didn't know."

She took a shaking breath, a finger lifted to trace the tattoo below his left eye. "Just... kiss me now, Tiger. I need to feel you."

The words had taken a desperate edge, and she let her fingers slide back from his face to wind in his hair and pull him down to her.

He didn't hesitate to lower himself to her request. With a small tilt of his head he took her lips once more. Warmth invaded him and he felt that familiar tingle that sent straight to his spine. It only happened with her he found out. He never let his lips leave her flesh; it followed down along the neckline until reaching her chest. His eyes worked their way up to her face before lightly nibbling the flesh that bordered on her dress. With the material now in his teeth he slid it down carefully and slowly. A smirk crossed his features once he slipped the material out from the grasp of his lips. That teasing nature starting to take hold of him once again.

"Your spot on this bed was lonely," His breath warm on her flesh, his own body starting to react to the simple touch she gave him. Lifting himself upwards, despite the grasp she held on his neck, he shrugged his jacket off in a quick motion. The jacket hit the floor with a thud followed by the lost of his shoes with a few kicks. "I missed this.." He said softly, lowering himself once more and snatching a quick kiss from her. "And.. this.." his hand lowered to the curve of her side, ruffling up the material in the process.

A hiss slid past her lips as his hand drew her dress up at her side, whether or not it was intentional.

She hadn't really planned on things going this way; she figured they would talk, sort out all of their hurt feelings and maybe be forced to start slow as a result. But the proximity to him wasn't going to allow for that, as their near romp on the street had aptly informed her. After years of this, they still sparked like nothing she'd ever experienced, and he still made her forget herself with a touch. Her skin was already searing, and this suddenly seemed like the appropriate step to make; words were said, he was a big step closer, and she no longer had reason to doubt what she brought to the relationship.

This was the last step needed to affirm the closeness again. She was weary, wound up, muscles tight and her flesh long neglected and untouched. He'd been the last to touch her, and her body was now letting her now just how deprived it had felt all those weeks. With rough movements, she brought her hands between them and tore open his shirt. He was too far, she needed him against her. She didn't even care if he didn't get her completely undressed. This had to happen now.

"Reno," she half-breathed, half-groaned. The word was a plea and a praise. In case he needed it clearer, however, she lifted her knees and locked her legs around his waist, pulling him hard against her.

Her sudden reaction surprised him. And here he was taking his time. There was no way he didn't like it however. Those nights where she took charge always sent him into overdrive. A sharp jolt hit him right in the groin, it had been a long time since he'd been aroused by someone other than the cheap porno flicks he watched late into the night alone. His shirt was now roughly open, his chest pressed against her body as he fed his urge to kiss her hard on the lips. This wasn't just because he had an urge, a lustful ambition, this was happening because he honestly missed her. Sex for him was a high, but when it was with her it was a sense of being whole. Like he'd told her, his world seemed to function around her.

While pressing into her he brought his hand to the front of her dress and, with a few fumbles, he was able to get most of the buttons off. His hand eagerly sought inside, cupping the soft mound of her breast. His lips were once more busy with her neck before searching her mouth once more. By now his arousal was constricted beneath his pants, all the more reason to crush up against her, eliciting a groan from her throat. His free hand had been wrapped around her frame, holding her to him as he pressed down upon her. All that was heard was the shuffling of the material on their bodies and the ragged breathing that now threatened him.

Her pale fingers made a hurried trail down his abdomen and to the belt at his waist. She might have been temporarily celibate, but this was a practice she'd never easily forget. With a few smooth motions, he was completely undone, despite that she'd had to begrudgingly separate from him momentarily to do so. She managed to toe her boots off with an unceremonious thump on the floor, and then her hands, her thighs, her feet- every part of her within range was working to shed his remaining clothing from him.

Quickly, she made the same effort to peel the remaining wisp of satin off her body that obstructed him, despite the fact that her dress was still clinging on her shoulders. Partially, at least. It was detail she didn't care to remedy at this point.

"Now, Reno, please, please..." she whimpered, grasping him in her hand and guiding him to the slick heat. "Need you. Please."

He didn't tease her this time; instead he slipped inside her slick walls.

She'd felt no shame in her words, however pleading they were. She felt no inhibition with lifting her hips to draw him inside as far as she could from her position. He knew the dance between them as well as she did, and all the dynamic that composed it. She needed to feel his need.

She was already so warm, the inner fire inside swelling up until he felt her release without even being fully in, her muscles quivering in rapid waves just as he'd barely inched inside.

"Oh, fuck..." She rasped out, grinned in spite of herself, knowing he'd felt it, too. But she wanted more. Her fingers, one hand grasping his hair, the other clawing at his hip, attested to it.

With those muscles contracting around him he shoved inside further, riding out her orgasm as his hips started their grinding. He fell on top of her then, the warmth and constriction overriding any other strength he had in him. However, his hips never stopped their thrusting as he kept a constant movement, the supple skin folding back all due to the tight walls around him. He let out a groan while she quivered underneath him, feeling her draw taut again and knowing she would be there again in seconds, her sharp breaths closer and closer together.

He was riding her hard now, the sound of skin hitting skin filled the air as his breathing was more rapid, gasping at points. Sweat started to collect around his forehead and temples he could feel the intense pressure escalating to the tip of his manhood, the walls she possessed seemed to grip him impossibly tighter, and with a few hard thrusts into her, he felt his own release. It was a long and intense release; he literally could feel his seed explode inside her, filling her as it continued to pump and constrict.

He let out a long strained groan pressing his body against her more then as he tried to regain his breathing ritual. Whispers escaped through his lips in words of "fuck" and "holy fuck", his brain swimming in total ecstasy. The whole experience reminded him of when he first was able to penetrate her inner fire, the day she'd permitted him to despite her status with another. That had been one intense fuck.

A low, sultry laugh interrupted his whispered curses, her arms wrapping around him as he panted against her.

"You did miss me," she breathed, a crooked grin on her lips. "I'm one to talk... I've never come twice in such a short span of time before."

She twisted her head a bit to find his face, planting kisses along his jaw, down to his chin, then settling on his lips. She kept the contact brief, as they were both still fairly out of breath. Then without warning, she tightened her thighs around him and flipped them over, pushing Reno firmly onto his back, an 'oof' emitting from his mouth, pressed against the coolness of the sheets.

Lazily, he lifted his eyelids to watch her sit up peel off whatever was left hanging onto her frame.

With a long sigh, she combed a hand through her brown locks, twisting it to drape over one shoulder and let the cool air touch her neck. "I remember this view," she said, tilting her head to regard him. "I had wings painted on my back, it was raining... you were just as deep inside..."

She grinned darkly, then finally separated her body from his with a quick hiss through her teeth, to which he responded in kind, briefly closing his eyes. Her body stretched out on her stomach beside him, her eyes trained on his as his lids slowly opened back up. "You remember?"

Of course, she was giving him a show of the tattoos on her back, the markings she couldn't bring herself to see the past month. Not that she could ever see them all that easily to begin with.

A lazy smirk spread across his face, revealing a row of teeth before nodding.

"Yeah.." He said in a whisper, though clearing his throat to make way for a stronger voice. His arm stretched out and settled underneath his damp neck, chest still rising and falling. "How can I forget? That was one of the most memorable things I've done.. even if it was just outside on the balcony. Oh.. and those wings you showed me for a gift. You avoided any contact from me for like .. a week? Even then I thought that was torture. Made me insanely jealous to think that someone might be touchin' you instead of me.. " Of course, those wings were healing on her back. She just wanted to make sure they weren't overly tender for him to see them. That night was another remarkable one.

"I think that should have been a sign." He mused over that week, and then the whole month of separation. "… we certainly have golden moments." He was happy he could share such memories with her, the only thing he truly enjoyed in his life. Other good memories only went back to accomplishing missions, or maybe a nice bar fight with his partners.

Those were the only memories he possessed the made him happy to be a Turk. But now he knew... she made him happy to be a person.


End file.
